


Anyone Like You...

by KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls



Category: Avengers, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Finn appearance, First Meeting, Fluff, I'll add tags as I go along, Love, Modern AU, Poe Dameron - Freeform, Poe Dameron appearance, Poe/Finn - Freeform, Rey - Freeform, Rey appearance, Star Wars Marvel Crossover, finn - Freeform, marvel star wars crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-04-28 13:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14450298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls/pseuds/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls
Summary: Summary: Reader is a middle school teacher. Meets Bucky through Clint's children. (I have no clue how old Hawkeye's kids are. I put em into lower level middle school grades. Again, it's an AU.)Author's Note:I've not seen Infinity War. I won't until it's released on digital. Therefore, this piece is completely spoiler free. Does not adhere to Avenger's timeline, hence AU.I've finally seen Infinity War and choose to ignore the movie for the sake of my story. Thanks. Also. Marvel: HOW EFFING DARE YOU!





	1. Chapter 1

  
 

“Uncle Bucky!” The two bright voices have your ears perk up and head jerk around. _Who the hell has a name like Bucky?_ Is a question that pops into your head. The answer makes you gasp. The slow once-over you give him is quite intentional and he notices. And that held back breath of yours likely, too. That smirk hanging on the corner of his mouth is a dead giveaway.   
  
Cocky fucker, you think. Not like self-observation is a bad thing. He is damn good looking. And he clearly knows. Especially in those jeans and that leather jacket and black shirt underneath. And that dark hair. And those lips... are your eyes lingering again? Fucking hell. How can you? You’re a teacher. There are kids in the room.  
  
You raise a brow. It’s more of a protective thing, now. After all, the kids in your care rely on you to ensure they go home with the right person. “Uncle Bucky? I thought a Mister James Barnes was picking up the children.”  
“That’s me.” The man the kids so cheerily called Bucky stretches out his gloved right hand. You didn’t notice that before. Gloves in spring. OKAY. “James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky.” He smiles. Good god, he has a perfect smile. And perfect ocean blues. And you catch yourself doing another slow once-over and him smirking again because this time your eyes linger at his chest. There’s trained muscle behind that shirt. Chest... Abs...  
  
“Sorry.” You yank your hand away quickly. Damn yourself for staring. But good god is he ever handsome. You clear your throat and try to collect your thoughts but the room temperature seems to have increased by a few degrees. “Buc...” Your voice cracks. “I mean, Mister Barnes. I know, you’ve signed in at the office but do you mind showing me your ID. Just to be sure.”  
  
“No problem, Ma’am.” Bucky plucks his wallet from the back of his jeans and your eyes seem to drop on their own accord. Yet again. This time to his legs. _Nice thighs_. You think.  “See. James Buchanan Barnes, Ma’am.” His voice pulls your attention up.  
There it is again. That fucking smirk and the Ma’am. It doesn’t throw you off that he says it. Just the how.   
  
You hurriedly inspect his ID and raise another brow. Quick math in head, his age is 34. No way he is 34. He looks 34 but the way he holds himself. His eyes. The way he says Ma’am. And... the way... you cannot pinpoint it but you feel he's not 34. But who are you to question?  
  
“Very well.” You hand the ID back and nod at the children who are eager to leave. Each grabs one of Bucky’s hands and they pull him to the door. “Mister Barnes.”  
Bucky stops, eyes detailing you now. Damn that choked back breath again. You’re sure he saw. Again. “Yes, Ma’am.”  
“If you could make sure Lila’s and Cooper’s dad gets the parent-teacher conference reminders. It’s important.”  
“Will do Ma’am.” Bucky smiles a crooked smile, and once again the children are pulling him to the door, and you check out his very trained backside. Fucking hell. That's a nice... Teacher. You’re a teacher.  
  
It takes a second to collect yourself. You shouldn’t be cussing even if it is internalized. And you shouldn’t be checking out some dude you just met even if he’s the epitome of perfection... Perfection... Yup. Because those ocean blues and those damn lips and that trained... GET YOUR FUCKING HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER.   
  
You sigh and turn towards your desk, ready to collect the last of your things to head home when from the hallway you hear excited chatter.  
“Told you she’s pretty, Uncle Bucky.” That’s Cooper's voice.   
“And she’s really smart. Did you know she built some kind of laser thingy and now NASA is using it to help them find things with their robots.” That’s Lila.  
“Wow. Well, now I have nothing to impress her with.” That’s Bucky.  
“You can always tell her your true age, Uncle Bucky.”  
“Let’s just do this one thing at a time.”  
True age? So your gut was right.  
You wait a few minutes, then grab your stuff at last. Two big roller boxes filled with student folders going home with you tonight. You sigh. Parent-teacher conferences coming up. Unpaid overtime. Yippee.  
   
You reach your car, ready to open the trunk when a shadow from the side makes you jump.  
"Didn't mean to scare you." Bucky awkwardly scratches the back of his head.  
"Where are the children?" You look around.  
"In the car." Bucky looks over his shoulder back towards a dark SUV with tinted windows. "They said we can't leave, yet."  
You fold your arms. "And why's that?"  
Bucky drags in a long breath, cheeks turning ever so slightly pink. "Uhm.. well..." He stalls.  
"Come on, Barnes. Don't have all day." You turn, open the trunk of your car, and lift one roller box into the trunk and Bucky grabs the second one to help you.  
   
"I'm supposed to ask you out." This time his gaze lingers on you and you can feel the blood rush to your cheeks.  
"Supposed to ask me out." You repeat with a bit of a mocking tinge. "Is that what they want or you want." You smirk.  
"Well, they but... me, too. What do you say?"  
You hold a breath looking towards the SUV and despite the tinted windows, you swear you can see two noses pressed against the back window. "Alright. How about next week Wednesday? Shortest day of parent-teacher conferences. I'll probably need a drink that evening."  
   
Bucky can't help a laugh at your honesty. "Ok. You pick the place and I'll pick you up here around?"  
"Six."  
"Six it is."


	2. Chapter 2

“Sorry. Sorry.” You pant running down the hallway. Such a hypocrite.   
“Miss [Y/L/N] is running!”  
“Oooohhhh she’s in trouble.”  
“We gonna tell on you, Miss [Y/L/N].”  
“Not if you want Ice Cream Friday to happen.” You dash past the kids and they don’t dare to protest.  
  
From the distance you see him smirking at all the remarks. Damn his smirk.  
“Sorry,” you repeat, sliding to a stop in front of Bucky. “Parent-teacher conferences. Last meeting took forever... And... I was a mess. So I had to fix my... And you... you look fucking perfect. Aren't we going to Solo's.” You detail his look of the evening. Black button-down, dark-washed jeans, spiffed up boots. And hair. Nicely styled, even with that length. Kinda bed head, kinda neat, kinda him.  
  
Bucky perks a brow then laughs. “I thought this is a middle school. Are teachers allowed to cuss?”  
“Pft. Like they’ve never heard a bad word in their lives.” You look over your shoulder at some giggling kids and shock-eyed parents. “But now that you say it. I Apologize. Kids, don’t use that word.” You try to defuse the situation. And it somewhat works. If with rolls of the eye and shakes of the heads.  
  
“So dinner.” Your attention shifts back to Bucky.   
“Solo’s, just like you recommended.” His voice carries a slight rasp you’ve not noticed before. And your heart skips a beat. _WTF heart. **WTF!**_  
“And you dressed fancy for that? Han will kick you out.”  
“In my days, this was dressed down.” The corner of his mouth curls in that cocky way and you just stand there for a second.  
“In your days? The fuck. You sound like you’re 60.”  
  
“Miss [Y/L/N]!” The voice of the principal standing behind you has you go wide-eyed. You cringe a sorry, and the principal shakes her head.

“Better get out of here before they fire me.” You chuckle.  
Bucky starts to the front double doors. “They wouldn’t, would they? Because if I got you in trouble of any kind, I will talk to the principal.”  
“Awe. Sweet. But no need. It’s an end of day kind of thing. I’ve bottled it all up and now it’s spilling out.” You smirk this time, keeping pace with Bucky.  
He laughs, deepened lines crinkling at the corners. “Well that’s good, I think. Bottled up emotions can be bad.”  
“Speaking from experience?”  
Bucky perks a brow like he’s surprised. And even more so by the answer crossing his lips. “Yes.”  
  
You reach the small restaurant not ten minutes from school. One reason you’d recommended it is the familiarity. You come here at least twice a week and the owner knows your standing order. Today is no surprise. Although, the man on your side is, and, upon arrival, Han studies Bucky suspiciously. “[Y/N]. The usual?”   
“Actually, a menu would be nice today.”  
“Reeeeeeally?” Han pulls your chair before Bucky gets a chance, still eyeing Bucky like some oddity before he takes off to grab the menus.   
  
“Don’t worry. Han is all bark and no bite. He’s like a bear. A grumpy teddy bear.” You smile when you see Bucky fidgeting in his seat.  
“Good to know.” He relaxes a bit.   
The menus arrive and you notice Bucky wearing gloves again. “Do you ever take those off?” You ask with caution.  
Bucky’s face drops like you’ve dug into something uncomfortable. “At home.”  
You smile softly and don’t press on. Instead, you study the menu. _When did Han add all this stuff?_ “Han, what’s a Zeltros slider.” You call out and Bucky chuckles. “What?”  
  
“Are you always this ... forward?” Bucky’s voice still carries amusement.  
“When you work with middle-schoolers, it sort of rubs off.”   
“Hmmmm...” Bucky tries to suppress another smirk. Unsuccessfully.  
  
Han returns to the table, beer in hand for you, water for Bucky. “Zeltros sliders are marinated in a whiskey barbeque sauce. You wanna give it a try?”   
You look to Bucky and he nods. “Sure. I guess two of those?” Bucky nods again. “And bring this man a beer!” You yell after Han, and Bucky laughs. “What?”  
“Nothing. Just never met anyone like you.”  
“Like me?”  
  
“Yeah. Teacher with a mouth of a sailor and who is clearly overqualified for her job.” Bucky takes a sip of his water.  
“Who says I’m overqualified?”  
“Clint.”  
You shake your head in confusion.   
“Mister Barton.”  
“His kids talk too much.” You laugh.  
“So it’s true. You developed a laser for NASA?” Bucky’s eyes widen.  
“I used to work for them.” You state matter of factly.  
“Then why this job?”   
“Hmmm... let’s just say there was a guy. He was an ass. He soured the job for me.”  
“A guy? An ex-colleague or boyfriend?”  
“Both.”  
  
Bucky nods in understanding and it’s you who fidgets this time. A cue he picks up. You know he’s picked it up because once food arrives, conversation drifts away from that and towards your current careers. Yours at least. Bucky manages to skillfully stir away from his. A bit irritating but ok. Maybe he can’t talk of his work. Or maybe it's uncomfortable. Like the glove thing. Either way, you take it. It’s nice to talk about yourself for once and not try and follow some show off who thinks first dates lead to one thing.   
  
Dinner lasts. And so does dessert. And the walk towards the cab lasts even longer.  
“Do you live far from here?” Bucky asks, gloved hands in pockets.  
“Not really. But I prefer not to show you to my place, yet.” Your guard goes up. The whole evening he’s not given a single reason that he’s that kind of guy, but your guard goes up anyways.   
“That’s ok. This is nice, too.” Bucky smiles.  
You reach a cab collection point, ready to wave one down before you halt.  
“So.”  
“So,” Bucky repeats and waits for what you want to say.  
“This was nice.”  
“Yes, it was.”  
“Uhmmm... movie next time?” You ask cautiously, and see Bucky’s eyes light up.  
“I’d love that.”  
“Great. They’re showing a classic at the theater next Friday?” Your voice is cautious again, and Bucky nods.  
  
Your heart skips a few beats. This guy isn’t like anyone you’ve ever met. Not pushy. Respectful distance. Subtle flirtation through smiles. Cocky smiles. Knowing smiles. And surprisingly a few shy ones, too. And some sad ones. But you pretended like you hadn't seen those.

  
You wave down a cab at last, and while one slowly rolls your way you see Bucky’s face fall from the corner of your eye. That’s disappointment for sure. “Well. I had a great time, Bucky.” You quickly lean a kiss on his cheek and slip into the cab but not before noticing that it’s like the annual 4th of July fireworks has gone off on his face.   
“Me, too. [Y/N].” He smiles before he closes the door and taps the top.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I have honestly no idea where I'm going with this story. LOL. All chapters are written on a whim.

 

The movie theater is packed. Who knew. You didn't think there'd be this many people showing up. After all, this movie is old. Then again it is a classic. Bucky, ever the gentleman, grabs the popcorn and sodas and is now squeezing his way towards you. Center of center row. "Because these seats get the best sound," You'd explained before he went to concessions.  
   
"When did popcorn and soda become this expensive?" Bucky huffs as he takes his seat next to you and you laugh.  
"What planet are you from?" You lift an amused brow and you swear you see Bucky gulp back a breath like he's given himself away. "I'll pay you back if ..."  
"Oh, no. NO... I didn't mean it like that. I... I..." Bucky stumbles over his words and you laugh again.  
   
"Shhhhhh." Some random dude behind you has his fingers on his lips and you quirk a brow.  
You put on your annoyed teacher face. "It's an ad for a cruise. You really need quiet for that?" You wait for a response and hear Bucky mute a laugh into his, yet again, gloved hand. "Some people." You roll your eyes.  
   
Movie of choice truly is a classic. Classic horror that is. You jump a few times, nearly spilling your popcorn and at some point even hide your face in Bucky's right arm. You could stay there because good god he smells fantastic. Not to mention: muscle! You internalize a giggle. How shallow of you. But you can't help a bit of shallowness. All people are shallow. Even if it's just .00000001%.  
   
The movie ends and you sit and wait. Bucky raises a brow. "Why rush?" You say. "Everyone is always in such a hurry. I kinda like waiting. Let them all drive away first. No frustration trying to back out of the parking spot."  
Bucky studies you from the side as you talk and nods. "I noticed that, too. People are always in such a hurry nowadays. Like they need to go somewhere all the time."  
 _Nowadays?_ You raise your brow, side-eyeing Bucky. There it is again. That gut feeling he's not quite the age his I.D. said. He feels... older.  
   
Bucky catches you studying him and smiles. "Dinner?"  
"Kinda stuffed from the popcorn. My hips will thank me later." You scoff, sarcastically pinching your hips.  
"I like ... " Bucky starts but comes to a dead stop, your eyes on his waiting for what he wants to say.  
"You like?" You offer a toothy smile.  
Bucky scrunches up his face, pink creeping to his cheeks. "Uhmm... I like curves."  
Your own cheeks suddenly rush with heat. "Still too stuffed. How about a drink?"  
"Sounds like a plan."  
   
Bucky stands up and lets you take lead. You decide to leave your car in the lot. The next bar isn't far out. A little Air Force dive where the owners once again know you. That's what life's been like for you: go out, watch a movie, go to the bar, or Han's. But it's been an alone kind of thing. At least since you've left NASA guy and traded that for a life far away. A reset. A do-over. Thankfully, the locals here have taken you in like family, so it's no surprise that, once you arrive at the bar, Bucky once again gets eyed with suspicion.  
   
"[Y/N], nice to see you back. Who's your friend?" One of the owners stands squared with folded arms opposite Bucky. Dark-eyed and dark curled, he clenches his square jaw.  
"Cool it, Poe. Sorry Bucky, Poe gets a bit overprotective. Poe, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Poe Dameron. Co-owner of the Mach Two." You raise a brow at Poe and Poe unfolds his arms. Firm grips are a given, and Bucky holds his own. You roll your eyes. Macho attitude doesn't sit well with you. "You boys wanna take it outside? Finn can play referee." You twist your mouth.  
   
Poe frowns. "Finn's not here."  
"Oh?"  
"Training with the reserves this month." Poe walks behind the counter and sets out a glass for you. "The usual, right?"  
You nod and Poe pours you a simple gin tonic. "I'm sure Finn will be back before you know it." You try to cheer up your friend.  
"Yeah. I know. Just thought, these days are behind us. One more year reserves for him, then he's finally done." Poe eyes Bucky top to bottom, tapping an index on the counter. "What's your drink, soldier?"   
   
Your eyes shift to Bucky, then back to Poe. "Soldier? Makes you think he's a soldier. His hair is too long." You chuckle. If a bit awkwardly. You still have no clue what this man does for a living. And this is your second date. Then again, looking him up and down... But for all you know, he could be a personal trainer.  
"I know a grunt when I see one. So what is it? Whiskey on the rocks or something stronger?" Poe waits, finger still thudding.  
Your eyes go back to Bucky and you catch him hitching a breath.  
"Whiskey on the rocks. If you got some Old Crow, that'd be great."  
Your jaw slacks and so does Poe's. For different reasons. "That's some damn expensive taste you got there, buddy." Poe's eyes go wide as though Bucky is asking for the Holy Grail.  
   
Your brows knit together. "Why? What is Old Crow?"  
"A World War Two rarity. Lucky for you, I got a couple of bottles but it's gonna cost ya." Poe searches through a locked stash and pulls out an old looking bottle of whiskey.  
"Really Poe? Can't you give him a fair price." You bat your lashes and Poe laughs.  
"Those don't work on me, Missy."  
"Damn. Where's Finn when you need him?" You huff.  
   
Poe holds a breath. "Alright. But only because [Y/N]'s a friend. A good friend." Poe warns as he pours a decent glass. "One on the house. But only one. This is a thousand dollar bottle."  
"Does Finn know you're cheap?" You laugh as you grab your glasses.  
"He knows that I'd like to keep the business running, and you're not helping."  
"Love you too, Poe." You laugh again, then take lead to a secluded table in the back and Bucky trails behind.  
   
You take your seat and wait for Bucky to do the same. "So... James Buchanan Barnes. Is it true? You're a soldier?" You ask with a face edged like stone. Time for some answers at last. And this time you're not letting him divert away from himself.  
Bucky takes a swig from his glass, letting the whiskey settle in the back of his throat. And some on his lips the way his tongue is tracing his lips. "I used to be."  
"Not anymore?"  
"It's a bit complicated."  
You shrug your shoulders. "Well. We're here. No school tomorrow. I got all night."  
   
Bucky chuckles softly. "You're so forward."  
"Does that scare you?"  
"No. Actually, it's nice to talk to someone who isn't holding back." Bucky's eyes drop to that sadness you've witnessed before. And now you want to know everything. That curiosity must be plastered on your face because as fast as the sadness came it makes way for smiling eyes. "You've really not heard of me? Have you heard of the Avengers?"  
"Who hasn't?" You study Bucky's face but his is not familiar to you.  
Bucky's face darkens. "The Winter Soldier?"  
   
You try to recollect the news from the last few months. It takes a moment. And then...suddenly his face is there. That thing in Vienna. James Buchanan Barnes. Why didn't it ring a bell sooner? "That's you?" Your eyes wander top to bottom over Bucky. "They cleared your name." You state matter of fact-ly because you can feel a tension rise between the two of you, more from Bucky than yourself.  
   
Bucky fidgets in his seat and you reach over the table, your hands coming to a rest on his. "Take them off." You request softly.  
"What? ... No."  
"Why?"  
"Because..."  
"I'm not going to judge you. Take them off. For me." You hold your gaze on Bucky and he gulps back a breath. Another moment of hesitation and he takes off his gloves, and you at last hold his hands skin on skin and skin on metal.  
   
For a moment Bucky pulls back, but you don't let him. You hold tight. "So... talk to me, James. Why go out with me?"  
Bucky holds another breath like he's searching for the right answer. "Because... I've never met anyone like you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is SUPER FLUFF. Enjoy.

You and Bucky sit talking all night. This time it's quid pro quo. You tell him something about yourself and he shares a fact from his life. So far you've learned that he loves old movies, especially Fantasia and Casablanca; that his sister's name was Rebecca; that he likes boxing; that his cybernetic arm is made of titanium; that he's hoping to be part of The Avengers at some point; and that his best friend's name is Steve. Steve as in Steve Rogers: Captain America.  
   
"Captain America, huh?" You wiggle your brows teasingly and Bucky sits mouth agape. "I'm just messing. I don't think I could date the poster boy for The Avengers."  
Bucky rasps out a laugh. He's never thought of his best friend as that. "Why not?"  
"I don't know. Too much drama, I think. I'm sure Steve's a nice guy but to be constantly put on the spot. Whether what you're doing is right or wrong. Political tool of the U.S... " You stop when you notice Bucky's pulled down brows. "I'm sorry. I'm usually not this cynical."  
   
"No... don't be. I prefer your honesty. And you're right. It can be a bit much. That political tool thing you mentioned. It's definitely caused tension." Bucky drinks the last of his whiskey. He's made that glass last, and you're on your third. You chuckle.  
"I'll buy you another if you're worried about the cost." You smirk.  
Bucky plays with the glass, that last drop rolling at the bottom. "It's not that. Just haven't had this in so long. During the war, this became a commodity."  
_The war?_ Your eyes wander over Bucky, question at the tip of your tongue. You narrow your eyes, still trying to comprehend a few things. "How old are you?" You dare at last.  
   
Bucky's head wobbles with a light laugh. "Older than you think."  
"Come on. You talk of war. That's a World War Two remainder." You point at his glass. "You telling me you're what, at least ninety... ninety-five?"  
Bucky laughs wholeheartedly. "I doubt they'd have drafted me at thirteen. I'm older than that."  
"One hundred???"  
"One hundred and one."  
   
You sit a bit flabbergasted. Super soldier is not new to you. You know that Captain America is one. You even know he's quite old. Those leaked files by Black Widow had been quite a read. Even so, it's almost incomprehensible. Here he sits. James Buchanan Barnes. Math in head, you know he was born in 1917. That's older than your parents, your grandparents, hell, even your great-grandparents.  
   
You down the last of your gin tonic, corner of your mouth curling slightly. "For what it's worth, you don't look a day over one hundred." You say steady faced and Bucky bursts into laughter. So much so, you can't help but join. It feels like he hasn't laughed like that in a while so you let him. You like him laughing like that. Not a care. His whole body thrown in. Eyes crinkling deeply at the corners. Deepened creases around his mouth.  So... you let him.  
   
"Quid pro quo." Bucky drags in a slow breath to calm the last of his laugh, then his face changes to a serious expression and you steel yourself for what he wants to ask. "Why'd you really leave NASA?" Pow. There it is. You knew he'd want more detail eventually. "I don't believe some guy could just make you up and leave. For that, you seem ... too strong-minded."  
You cringe and Bucky follows with an "It's not a bad thing... to be strong-minded."  
You hitch a breath, sorting to what and how much you want to give away. "There was a training accident. A couple of people got hurt very badly. I can't tell you exactly what went wrong because... well you know about classified." You state and Bucky nods.  
   
"Everyone was pointing fingers. I could've lived with that. But... the guy, he and I, we were a team. At least that's what I thought... Until that day." You pause. You've not told many people about this. And reality can be harsh so you need a break. "He stabbed me in the back to save his own ass. That cut deep and I had to get out of there. Even though at the hearing it turned out that there was nothing we could've done to prevent this."  
   
Bucky sits quietly for a minute to give you time to work through the emotions. You're not close to crying or anything but he can tell this lays heavy on your soul. Another minute and he reaches for your hand. "So... why teaching?"  
You perk a brow. "I still needed some excitement in my life. I mean, have you ever tried to settle down a class of twenty or so tweens." You state with such nonchalant timbre it takes a second to process, and Bucky bursts into laughter again.  
   
Just then, from the corner of your eye, you spy Poe ambling your way. Three bottles and a glass in his hands. You peer around and only now, you become aware that the bar is empty. The last patron must've left some time ago as the tables are cleared and chairs are stashed atop.  
   
"Closing time," Poe smirks as he takes a seat between you and Bucky. "One last drink, Soldier? On the house." Poe sets the bottle of Old Crow on the table and starts pouring you one last gin tonic with the other bottles.  
"Oh... I couldn't..." Bucky starts, but too late. Poe opens the whiskey and fills the other two glasses on the table. One for Bucky and one for himself.  
"I don't get a lot of customers who truly would appreciate this one. Especially someone as old as you." Poe's eyes settle on Bucky's face, studying his reaction.  
"You know who I am?" Bucky sits mouth agape again.  
"Hmmm... not often we get super soldiers visiting, even though the compound isn't far," Poe states matter of factly. He finishes pouring his own glass, then lifts it. "To new friends. And old friends."  
   
The glasses clink and all three of you sit quietly. You eye Poe who eyes Bucky. "You know, Finn would not be amused you checking out another man."  
Poe laughs. "Give me a break. I can look. Just no touching. Besides, I don't think I'm Bucky's type." Poe laughs more.  
"Oh yeah, in case you still don't know. Finn is Poe's better half." You point out and Bucky nods with a smile.  
"I gathered as much. Where'd you two meet?" Bucky sips on his whiskey and Poe starts telling his story, showing pictures of himself and Finn on his phone.  
   
Air Force friends. Then more than friends. Partners. "Been together five years now."  
"Nice." Bucky nods, and you're a little surprised he's not taken aback. Then again, what do you know about from way back when?  
You roll your eyes. "Nice alright. In fact, so nice, Poe is too chicken-shit to ask." You reach to Poe's neck and tug on the chain, a silver ring popping over his shirt collar a second later. "When you gonna ask him, Poe? You guys are ready."  
"You've had too much to drink!" Poe scoffs but he's unable to hide that spark behind his eyes.  
"No, I haven't. And also. I know Finn is ready."  
"And how do you know that."  
"He told me so. A while ago." You stand up, a little wobbly. "Little girl's room." You snicker with heated cheeks because suddenly you can feel the alcohol kicking in. "It better be clean in there." You yell on your way to the bathroom, swerving around tables.  
"Yes, your majesty. I made sure it's clean." Poe laughs after you.  
   
Bucky looks after to where you've disappeared to, then shifts his attention back to Poe. Awkward silence settles. And who can blame Bucky for that? Poe studies him suspiciously, yet again.  
"[Y/N] is a good friend." Poe halts. "Let me rephrase that. [Y/N] is one of my best friends. Even though I've only known her for a couple of years. She doesn't need me to stand up for her. I know that much. But if you break her heart on purpose, I'll break you. Super soldier or not."  
   
Bucky dares an amused huff of air through his nose, and Poe folds his arms. "You think, I can't take you?"  
"No. I think you could. And honestly, I'd probably let you. Not that I'd ever try to break her heart." Bucky takes another swig from his whiskey and Poe softens his posture.  
"You're quite... what's that old word... fond of her, huh?"  
Bucky's eyes cast down, like he's been caught, and nods.  
"Well. I think it's mutual. She hasn't laughed this much in... ever." Poe reveals and Bucky nods, again.  
   
The men both take sips from their whiskeys, Poe looking over his shoulder towards the bathrooms. "Can I tell you a secret, Bucky?"  
"Sure."  
"Don't tell [Y/N]." Poe waits for the confirming nod. "I plan on asking Finn when he comes back next week, Thursday. Got the whole thing planned. Gonna close the bar. Decorate with lights in his favorite color. The whole big, on one knee thing." Poe's eyes crinkle at the corners and Bucky smiles widely. "If he says yes, there's gonna be a party the day after. You think you can swing by and bring her along around eight?"  
   
"That sounds like a plan." Bucky's eyes dart to the bathroom doors where you sway out of. He chuckles. Yup. You've had one too many. "Give me your number real fast." Bucky leans towards Poe, handing him his cell, and Poe hurriedly types in his number.  
"What's up boys?" You grin when they quickly part.  
"Nothing." Poe smiles, and Bucky just shrugs. "Really gotta close up, [Y/N]." Poe tilts his head to the door.  
"Okey-dokey." You giggle. Damn alcohol.  
Poe eyes you with a sternly lifted brow, then shakes his head. "Bucky. Would you mind making sure [Y/N] gets home safe?"  
"No problem, flyboy."  
   
Bucky smiles at you and you hook your arm into his, your own smile even wider. "G'nite Poe."  
"Night, [Y/N]." Poe kisses against your temple then tilts his head for Bucky to take lead.  
   
Outside is colder than you remember, and you shamelessly snuggle closer to Bucky.  
"You want me to get the car and drive you home?" Bucky asks when you stop walking for a second to get your bearings.  
"No. Leave it at the theater. I'll pick it up tomorrow. The owner knows it's mine." You start again, and Bucky holds tight to you.  
"You know everybody here, hmmm?"  
"Yup. So you better not try anything, Mister." You poke Bucky from the side with a sharp finger and he laughs.  
   
Not even ten minutes later you reach the front of your apartment building, Bucky looking up the facade. A six-story, brick-type building. "Do you live all the way upstairs?" Bucky's voice carries some worry. "Because... if you do... I might have to carry you." He smirks, remembering that your walk has been a bit on the wobbly side all the way here.  
"Nope. I actually live there." You point to a staircase that leads to a basement apartment.  
"In that case, let me make sure you don't fall down the stairs." Bucky chuckles.  
   
You hold on to his arm and he leads down the stairs to your door.  You dig for your keys from your small purse and when you find them, drop them by accident. One too many. That'll hurt in the morning.  
"Let me get those." Bucky laughs. He grabs the keys, then unlocks your door and there you two stand. That awkward moment of goodbye because you're not quite ready yet to invite him in, and Bucky seems the type not to try. Not with the state you're in.  
   
You wait, both your eyes cast down. "So..." You circle your foot like some shy kid, hands interlaced behind your back, nearly tripping, but you catch yourself. "I had fun. I really did. But uhmm... yeah... this is goodnight." You stumble over the words, your eyes darting up to see if he's disappointed. But there's nothing of that sort there. Just a warm smile.  
Bucky nods and smiles wider. "You'll be ok, in there, right?"  
"Yup." You chuckle.  
   
You turn towards your door and Bucky is ready for that first step back up the stairs.  
"Bucky." You slowly turn back and he does the same. "You know... I usually don't do this. But uhm... ok so, next week, there's this event. A dance. And well... I was wondering if you'd like to come along? Friday afternoon?" You look down again, lips twisting, your mind racing: _Please say yes. Please. Please. Please_.  
"Sure thing. Is it fancy dress?"  
Your eyes could light New York City after that reply. "Totally." You smirk a bit.  
"Ah yeah. What's it for?" Bucky's eyes seem just as bright.  
"School."  
"Oh. So like middle school prom thing?"  
"Uhmmm no. It's a sock hop." You hold a serious face, studying Bucky's face to see if that processes.  
"A... sock... hop? And you need fancy clothes for that?" His voice reaches quite a high pitch, so much so, you can't hold that steady face any longer and burst out laughing.  
"I'm kidding about fancy dress. Fancy socks would be nice. And well, casual. You know, we'd be chaperoning." You giggle and Bucky does that nod you're slowly getting accustomed to.  
   
"K. So... next Friday. Three-ish. At the school. And really, the fancy dre..." You can't finish the sentence. Instead, you feel warmth against your lips. Silky warmth, then velvet tracing over the edges of your lips and you hold your breath while strong hands pull you close by your back. Good god, that man knows how to kiss, and you don't want it to end.  
   
"See you next Friday," Bucky whispers as he stands back and you just sort of stand lips parted.  
_Breathe. BREATHE._ "Ohhhh ohkay." You stumble into your apartment at last and swear you hear him chuckle before you close the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to know Reader a bit more in this chapter.

You set up the last table, punch and snacks neatly aligned, and trash bags nearby in hopes to catch all the paper plates and cups before they can make it to the floor. Or to the outside parking lot. Not that a lot of kids do that, but there's a few who seem to think the floor is the trash can. You glance up over the door and see that it's nearly three o'clock. You can hear the kids buzzing outside the gym. Sock hop is a school favorite. Nothing too fancy. Casual fun. A well-deserved treat after another finished state test. Free of cost thanks to donations by parents and other sponsors.  
   
The clock chimes three and you open the doors, other teachers reminding the kids not to run. You roll your eyes. You know it's a safety thing, but even you think at times some people are a "stick in the mud".  And the last thing the kids need today are adults who are complete "sticks in the mud".  
   
"Miss [Y/L/N], are we allowed to eat the cookies?" One of the fifth graders asks with a cheeky grin.  
"Not until an adult mans the table, Thomas." You remind and that cheeky grin wanes quickly. "Not much longer, I promise. Go dance." You smile warmly and Thomas agrees, if with a bit of a pout.  
   
You look around, then glance at your watch, wondering where the volunteer to man the "cookie and snack" station could be. You can't quite remember who was assigned. All you know is that it's a parent.  
"Miss [Y/L/N]." You hear the familiar voices of two kids. You spin on your heel - correction, on your polka dot socks- and see Lila and Cooper hurrying your way. Right behind them walks their dad, and right behind Mister Barton trails Bucky, wide smile on face, a daisy in his hand.  
   
Lila and Cooper reach you and the hugs are inevitable. You don't mind. They're sweet kids. Mister Barton greets with a handshake and Bucky... a hug. And a peck on the cheek right after he places the daisy behind your ear, which earns an obnoxious "ooooooooh" from numerous kids around you. "Oh please." You roll your eyes with a laugh.  
   
"So is this too fancy, or...?" Bucky spins around and you give him a detailed once-over. Black long-sleeved button down, black washed jeans, his gloves again, and... "Are those tiger striped socks?"  
"Yeah. You said fun socks." Bucky wiggles his brows.  
"I'm pretty sure I said fancy socks." You rebut.  
"They are fancy. You should feel how soft they are." He laughs then takes a look at your socks. "Polka dots. Cute." He smirks and you feel warmth rushing to your cheeks.  
Your eyes go to Mister Barton's feet, and he, too, has chosen an animal print. Leopard. At least he has the excuse that he's a dad, but Bucky... You snicker. The fact that he's willing to participate like this makes your heart skip a beat.  
   
"I think, I'm supposed to man the snack station." Lila's and Cooper's dad states, looking to the line of waiting kids.  
"Actually. Since you're here..." You start and you see Mister Barton's face fall like he's readying himself to hear some bad news about his kids. "They're not in trouble, but I do need to talk to you. I was going to at the parent-teacher conference but, well... life got busy, I'm sure." Your face is edged with such seriousness that Mister Barton doesn't dare deny. And as much as you'd love to stay and spend all your time with Bucky, this truly is important.  
   
"You don't mind helping, do you Bucky? I promise we'll be back in less than fifteen," You smile towards a concerned and very wide-eyed looking Bucky. For a super soldier, there's a fear on his face you are sure not even he's encountered before. You lean close to his ear, trying your best not to giggle. "They can smell fear. And if you're not careful, they'll tie you to a chair and wrap you in toilet paper." You step back, your mouth curling as you try your best to oppress a laugh. "See you in fifteen." You reassure with a chuckle, then take lead to your classroom, Mister Barton following close behind.  
   
Once there, you take a chair from one of the tables and offer it to the ever more tensing dad of two. You take a seat behind your desk and pull a folder from one of the drawers.  
"Let me just start by saying that I understand how difficult your life is." You begin, your mind going back to the day you'd first met Lila's and Cooper's dad.  
   
That had been nearly two years ago.  
 _"Miss [Y/L/N], may I please have a word with you?"_ You recall those words as if the conversation had happened just yesterday.  
   
 _"It's regarding my children." Mister Barton locks the door behind himself and suddenly you feel uneasy. You're not scared of the man before you really, but it's a gut feeling. "Please, this could take a while." Mister Barton points to your chair by the desk while he scrolls through his cell._  
 _You, unsure what this is about, take your seat, nerves on edge. Somehow you feel an interrogation coming your way and you're not sure if that's good or bad._  
  
 _"You studied at MIT?"_  
 _"Yes."_  
 _"Before that, you were in the Marines for four years?"_  
 _"Yes."_  
 _"You were accepted by NASA after you received your Master's in Applied Physics?"_  
 _"No. I was accepted after I got my Bachelor's. Worked on my Master's while at NASA."_  
 _Mister Barton nods as though this was a test to see if you're telling the truth._  
 _"You had hand-to-hand combat training?"_  
 _"Some, yes. During my time in the Marines. It was mandatory."_  
 _"Marksmanship? 220 points. You qualified as sharpshooter?"_  
 _"I did."_  
  
 _Silence._  
 _While you don't mind the questions so much, you do mind the secrecy behind the interrogation. You try your best to sit still but the continuing silence has your foot tapping soon. "Mister Barton. I have papers to grade. And a classroom to set up for tomorrow. And I have to write letters to a few parents. So unless you gonna tell me what all this is about, I need to ask you to leave."_  
 _"Very well." Barton pockets his cell and offers a stretched out hand, and despite your mind screaming at you not to accept you do._  
  
 _Next thing you know, you're on the floor, Barton looking at you from above. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you asshole!" You roll and jump to your feet. Barton reaches out but this time you grab him by the wrist. A punch to his shoulder and a swift foot behind his knee and now he's on the floor. He's agile like a cat and flips to his feet from a crab-like position, this time trying to attack you with a roundhouse kick but you block fast, grabbing him by the leg and sending him flying back to the floor, his back hitting the tiled floor hard._  
 _"Ok, enough! What the fuck is going on?" You pant, heart rate through the roof because what the actual fuck._  
  
 _"Needed to see if you remembered your training." Barton flips to his feet again and you stand stunned._  
 _"Is this a joke?"_  
 _"No." He's got his cell out again, dialing a number, leaving you with growing agitation. "Hey.--- Yeah. --- Just finished. --- She's good. ---Real good.--- I think we can trust her.--- Yes. I know." Barton hangs up and you're just about ready to knock him the fuck out with an uppercut if you have to._  
  
 _"Are you up to date with the news?"_  
 _What kind of fucking question is that? "Yes." You answer with folded arms this time._  
 _"Then you know about S.H.I.E.L.D.?"_  
 _"Yes." Arms are still folded tight._  
 _"And The Avengers?"_  
 _"Yes." Your stance relaxes a bit._  
 _Mister Barton studies your posture, finally taking a seat opposite you, waiting for you to do the same, so you do._  
 _"Let me guess. You're part of the team?"_  
 _"Yes."_  
 _You nod, and suddenly it dawns on you. A screech outside your classroom window draws your attention and you see Lila and Cooper playing catch. It's clear why he's here. And at last, you're ready to listen._  
   
You recall long conversations from that day. Talks about safety and where to go should someone ever try to kidnap the children. Two years it's been, and in two years, the kids have never been in any danger while under your care.  
   
And now you sit in the classroom, concerned for the first time. Not so much about their physical health. Mister Barton is a good dad. And Misses Barton does her best to stay on top of everything school. It's other things that have your mind filled with worry. In two years, you've always been honest with this family, and you expect the same from them, and that's what they've offered so far.  
   
"Lila is a good student." You start. "She's advancing fast. In fact, I think she's starting to get bored." You chuckle, catching a hint of pride in Mister Barton's eyes. "I'm not too worried for her. She seems well adjusted. Cooper on the other hand..."  
"Are his grades bad?"  
"No... no... his written test scores are through the roof. You have smart kids. It's not his grades I'm concerned with. It's his behavior." You see Mister Barton tensing in the chair like he already knows what this might be about. "He's... become... less vocal. Cooper is usually the first to raise his hand. The first to volunteer for science projects. At first, I thought he was being bullied. Kids this age can be cruel. But that's not it." You pull a couple of pictures from the folder and hand them to Mister Barton and he sits steady faced.  
   
"Those are... his friends." You point to the figures laying on what looks like a floor. Streaks of red crayon indicating blood. "I know, your job is dangerous. I know, you try your best not to bring it home, but something does come back. I cannot imagine the stress you're under. Well... actually, I somewhat can." You drag in a slow breath, hoping that the man opposite gets where you're going with this.  
   
"We've had a few incidents. People have gotten hurt. People close to Cooper." Mister Barton shuffles the papers to look at the second picture. "He didn't see things happen, but..."  
"He's not oblivious." You cut off. Unintentionally.  
Mister Barton nods and so do you.  
"I usually don't get involved. And I'm trying not to invade. But this is a special situation. You trust me to keep your kids safe. And I've been doing that. And now, I need you to trust me."  
Cooper's dad moves his jaw side to side and you can tell he's working through the options. "What do you have in mind?"  
   
"Counseling."  
"Ok. Ok. Yeah sure... I can see Cooper talking to you."  
"No. Not with me."  
Furrowed brows is the response. And tense body language again. "You have a minor in psychology." Is the argument.  
"Yes. Working with adults. Not with kids. Kids are different. They're tough and at the same time fragile like glass ornaments. I need someone to help who's been doing this for a while. We have someone in-house. She's been working with kids for thirty years."  
There's resistance. You can tell by the silent treatment you're getting.  
   
"Look, Mister Barton..."  
"I think you can call me Clint."  
Your brows pull down. "What?"  
"Bucky is a friend."  
"I see. Well." You hitch a breath, returning the folder back into the drawer. "Clint. Cooper needs help. I wasn't thinking about a full psychological profile. But he needs someone to talk to outside the family. Someone he can trust. And I trust this person. In fact, Cooper doesn't even have to talk to her. She'd sit in the classroom, observing first.  And if Cooper talks to her, she will listen."  
Clint nods. "Can I talk to my wife about this first?"  
"Of course. I hope you will because this needs to be addressed with everyone involved."  
Clint sits quietly again, processing the information and you get up to head for the door. "You don't have to decide anything today. Talk to Misses..." You halt and chuckle. "Laura. Right? Your wife's name is Laura."  
   
Clint nods.  
"Talk to her. And we'll do what it takes."  
Clint nods again, then chuckles. "So... I guess my kids were pushy, huh?"  
"Why do you say that?"  
Clint laughs. "Bucky."  
"Yeah. Well, they weren't going to let him drive home." You laugh.  
Clint's face falls back to contemplation and you gently lay a hand on his shoulder.  
"Let's go back. They've probably tied Bucky up." You bob your head, and Clint stands wide-eyed.  
"Middle schoolers." His eyes go even wider.  
"Tell me about it." You laugh, making your way back to the gym at last.  
   
To your surprise, you find Bucky unharmed, still manning the snack station, nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie. "Those are for the kids." You steal the half he has left, taking a bite, and Bucky gives a puppy dog pout. "Alright. Here! Have the rest." You stuff the rest of the cookie in his mouth and he scrunches up his face.  
Bucky looks towards Clint, who is now on the floor, dancing with his kids. "Everything okay?"  
"Yup. Everything is good." You push a breath through your nose and Bucky eyes you from the side.  
   
You can feel his lingering gaze but choose to keep your eyes on the kids. "I can't tell you. Confidential." Your lips purse a little.  
Bucky looks back towards Clint and his kids, them dancing to Chubby Checkers' The Twist. "At least tell me they're not in danger."  
You look up at Bucky, his face dark with worry. You rub over his arm. "If they were, they'd not be here, today. And I doubt Clint would be dancing like that." You snicker when you spy the dad of two awkwardly trying twist along.  
"Clint hmmm... not Mister Barton?" Bucky's face lights up.  
"Yeah, well that's your fault." You state matter of fact-ly and Bucky's brows knit together. "Actually, it's theirs." You tack on.  
   
"Miss [Y/L/N]," Lila calls towards you and you make sure to acknowledge the girl with a smile as she speeds towards you and starts pulling on your arm. "Come dance with us."  
"I can't. I have to watch out for trouble."  
"Awe. One dance." Lila bats her lashes.  
"Yeah. One dance. Come on [Y/N]." Bucky nudges you with his shoulder and before you have time to protest he pulls you to the center of the floor.  
  
 


	6. Chapter 6

You and Bucky dance to one more song after he's pulled you to the floor; Roxette's "Dangerous" blasting through the speakers now. You sing along without much care, knowing full well you're not the best at holding a tune, something Bucky finds rather endearing.  
Then it's time to man your stations again.  
Clint is ready to head to the snack table but you insist that he spend this time with his kids.  
   
"You don't mind, do you Bucky?" You ask with some caution heading back to the snack table. With caution because it's the second time you've asked him to take over. There is a bit of guilt building in your stomach. After all, it had been you who'd asked him to come to this dance in the first place. And now you're hardly even spending time together.  
   
Your worry is uncalled for. Once again, Bucky offers nothing but a warm smile. "It's good that they get to spend time together." He looks over to where Clint is now trying to teach the kids the _"Cha Cha Slide",_ something that once again evokes some amusement.  
You nod and look around. "Gonna do a round. Just checking that kids are picking up after themselves." You get a trash bag, Bucky already busy handing out more snacks.  
   
The way he interacts with the kids, making them laugh and talking to them like young adults, challenging them to silly face competitions, and even a few arm wrestling matches -if with gloved hands once again-, makes your heart skip a few beats. What is that creeping into your stomach? That fuzzy, tingling feeling. There's a moment where you can't help your fingertips tracing over your own lips, your thoughts going back to last Friday. How he'd kissed you. How he'd pressed you closer to his own body. How he'd tasted of whiskey and spearmint.  
   
What were you doing again? Right! Picking up trash.  You go and make your round and Bucky continues handing out snacks. But not before he catches you staring at him. A wink and a knowing smirk, and you walk away with heated cheeks and a bashful smile.  
   
Before you know it, the clock shows five o'clock. The end of the sock hop. Two hours is plenty for sure. Plenty of time to release those last few weeks of stress these kids have had. But also plenty of time to leave a bit of a mess. The remnants of broken streamers and popped balloons litter the floor, along with a few cups and paper plates, and the occasional stray sweater or book.  
   
Clean up is fast though. Bucky is helpful, and so are Clint and his kids. He's insisted this time.  
The men help fold tables and chairs. Lila and Cooper help with taking down whatever balloons managed to survive the dance. You gather up clearly forgotten items and deliver them to the lost and found in the front office. When you return, Bucky is talking with Clint while Lila and Cooper chase one another, each holding leftover streamers in their hands because why not.  
   
"Miss [Y/L/N]!" Cooper dashes for you, sliding to a stop in front of you, Lila on his heels and nearly knocking her brother over.  
"I wanna ask." Lila pinches her brother.  
"No. I wanna ask. Dad said I can ask."  Cooper shoulders his sister back.  
"Hey! Be nice! Both of you!" You warn with crossed arms, your face taking on as teacher-esque of an expression as possible. You wait for the kids to calm whatever has them excited, then smile at Cooper.  
"You wanna come have dinner with us tomorrow?" Cooper's voice is loud. Clearly, excitement took over in the moment.  
You look to Lila and the girl stands wide-eyed and smiling ear to ear, waiting.  
   
"Uhm..."  
"Uncle Bucky will be there, too. He said he's bringing ice cream and apple pie." Lila blurts out this time and you notice Bucky's gaze on you.  
"Sure. Do I need to bring anything?" You smile, if a little warily.  
"Daaaaaaad. Does Miss [Y/L/N] have to bring anything?" Cooper yells over his shoulder and you see Bucky biting back a laugh.  
"No. Just herself." Clint starts towards you and the kids.  
   
"He said no. Just yourself." Cooper repeats with enthusiasm and you wonder what on earth they're up to now. Somehow you get the feeling the dinner idea was the kids'. But dinner might be good. You'll get a chance to talk in a familiar setting. The bonus, of course, is that Bucky is going to be there. Another date. Two in a week.  
   
Clint stops in front of you, handing his kids their shoes, then his attention is on you. "We have to get going. Laura is waiting. Pizza night. The kids make their own." Clint explains. Funny how suddenly it's this first name basis kind of thing. But it seems one-sided. You know his... "See you tomorrow, [Y/N]. Say, seven?" Clint looks to you then Bucky, and you raise a brow.  
Of course, Clint would know your first name. "Fine with me. Bucky?" You smile and Bucky nods. A last handshake, then Clint ushers his kids out the front door, leaving you and Bucky alone in the hallway of the school.  
   
You peek at your watch. It's barely five thirty and you hadn't really planned beyond the dance. At the same time, you don't want the evening to end. For that, you feel, you've spent too little time with Bucky. A lingering silence and awkward bouncing on heels, it's the first time you don't know what to say.  
"So..." "So..." You both start and you both chuckle. Bucky's head tilts a bit, a crooked but wide smile following that. He's waiting patiently and you try to think of a thing to do.  
   
"We... uhm... we could go watch another movie." You suggest. "Or walk around."  
"A movie sounds nice."  
You didn't think it possible but Bucky's smile grows even wider, those crinkles deepening around his eyes. How much you like those crinkles. "K... I got the car in the lot. Wait..." You pause to think. "How did you get here?"  
"Clint."  
"Oh... he was your ride? So... uhm, how are you getting ... where do you live?" Suddenly the questions pile up. Sure, you know a few facts about the man standing opposite you. But those are mostly past things. A few bits and pieces from the now peppered in between. Mostly things he liked or didn't. But other than that...  
   
You still stand waiting for the answer, Bucky somehow closer in front of you now. His smile has softened a bit and he studies your face. "I live in the Facility."  
_Facility? What the fuck kind of term is that?_ You ponder and Bucky picks up your confusion at the word.  
"Compound. Uhm... Avengers gathering place? I honestly don't  know what to call it." He chuckles awkwardly and so do you. "I'll take a cab." He quickly tacks on because like you, he's aware of the distance. A good twenty-minute drive without traffic.  
   
"I don't mind dropping you off." You smile, and you mean that. You really don't mind. Anything. Anything really to spend more time with him is welcome. _Good god. When did this become whatever this is? This need to be ... close._ You shake your head. "Let's go. The next movie starts at six." You head towards the door.  
"Uhm.... [Y/N]?" Bucky's voice stops you.  
"What?" You spin around and see Bucky's eyes cast down. Yours follow, a laugh bubbling from you a second later. "Would be good to wear shoes, huh?"  
   
You make your way to the parking lot, a chuckle crossing Bucky's lips and you feel slightly offended. "It's a great car." You perk a brow.  
"I know." Bucky chuckles more.  
"What?" Silence. "Come on, what?" You repeat when Bucky's amusement turns into full-on laughter.  
"Steve used one like this as a getaway car once."  
"I see. Well, we're not running today." You smirk. "Get in!" You command and Bucky obeys.  
   
"Ah yes... leg space." Bucky fastens his seatbelt, him sitting in the front passenger seat, and this time you can't help being amused.  
"Steve had you sitting in the back?"  
"Only because Wilson called shotgun."  
"Wilson?"  
"Falcon."  
"Right. I gotta remember you know them all." You start the engine and pull out of the lot.  
   
"You know Clint." Bucky states matter of fact-ly and you chance a fleeting glance to the side.  
"That's a long story." You say, eyes back on the road, full focus on the four-way stop ahead. "But to make it short. Mister Ba... I mean... Clint... He didn't want to deny his kids a regular life. So he decided to send his kids to my school."  
Bucky contemplates for a minute, you driving on after the short stop. "Because you're a badass?"  
You can feel that lingering gaze from the side and you get the feeling Clint has talked about you. "What has he told you?"  
   
Bucky sits quietly again. Like he needs to be careful. "That you were in the Marines. That you're smart. NASA. Degree."  
"Hmmmm..." Is all you offer this time. You pull into the lot of the theater and cut the engine, eyes on Bucky once you draw the keys from the starter. Serious eyes. Stern. And waiting. You know he wants to ask more. Silence and working gears behind ocean blues give him away.  
Bucky himself tries to gauge you. Eyes fixated on you. "Why'd you quit the Marines?" He asks softly as to not sound like he's judging.  
   
"The uniform was too tight."  
Bucky's brows knit together and you chuckle.  
"Turns out, I'm not so great at taking orders." You smirk. "It wasn't bad. I did enjoy my time. I just wasn't willing to do things blindly. And they don't like that."  
Bucky's face is now dead serious. "Then why join in the first place?"  
"It was an easy route to get out of my town. As simple as that." You state, hitching a breath. "That doesn't sound very noble, huh?" You ask, lips twisting as though you're ashamed, looking down to avoid Bucky's eyes.  
   
It's quiet again, but you somehow don't dare to look up. Then you feel soft skin against your cheek. Bucky is cupping your face with an ungloved hand, gently forcing your face up to look into your eyes where he finds guilt. "I think... you were young. Figuring out life. I'm sure you learned a thing or two. I know I did. And things were different back then. It was... simpler. Less gray and more black and white. Even with the whole world at war. I don't know if I'd be so eager to enlist today. Not with how the world is today. Not with how blurry the lines are. So... I understand." He brushes his thumb over your cheek a few times and you nod into his palm, your own fingers curling around his hand to hold it in place, closing your eyes to take in the warmth.  
   
When you open your eyes, you see Bucky smiling, then he leans in. Warm silk meeting your lips next. And that's all he gives you this time. Just a tender kiss. So different from last Friday, but liked nonetheless. "Let's go. Movie." Bucky unfastens his seatbelt, replacing the glove on his hand, but you sit quiet. Too quiet for his liking. "You alright?"  
"Hmmmm...Yeah... yes... I'm just... thank you."  
"For what, Doll?"  
"For..." You shrug, looking to the marquee of the theater where it says _"While You Were Sleeping"_. "For not going off the rails about my choices."  
   
Bucky looks at you with some disbelief. That bubbly, forward exterior has fallen away and there you sit, heart on your sleeve, past pain shining through the growing cracks of your layers. And you don't mind, because, for whatever reason, you feel ... safe. He makes you feel safe. Even with his own pain, which you know he hides rather well. The only external sign really, his gloves.  
   
You chance a fleeting look to his hands. You push a breath through your nose, your hands curling around his, which makes him tense up.  
"You don't have to take them off." You assure, fully aware that the Friday before you'd asked exactly that of him.  
Bucky relaxes and squeezes your hands. "And you don't ever have to worry about me judging you." He speaks with a low voice.  
   
You pull in a long breath, a smile returning to your face at last. "Let's go. Looks like Lando dug through the archives and found all of the nineties rom-coms." You chuckle.  
"Is that good or bad?"  
"You like Casablanca. I think good." You snicker as you finally get out of the car.  
 


	7. Chapter 7

You cross the parking lot to the theater, hand in hand with Bucky. Somehow that makes you giggle and Bucky raises a questioning brow.  
"Haven't held hands with anyone in a while." You scrunch up your nose and Bucky chuckles.  
You reach the large, double door and Bucky is quick to open it for you.  
"Thank you," Your voice carries another giggle. How juvenile of you.  
   
A quick glance at your watch shows five minutes to six. You get in line, a familiar smile greeting you at the box office once it's your turn. "[Y/N]. Back so soon?" The smile turns almost mischievous when the person behind it checks out Bucky next to you.  
You roll your eyes. You know what that smirk means. "Cut it out, Lando."  
"What? I didn't even say anything. I mean... usually, you only come by on fright night." Lando leans over the counter. "And usually, alone." He whispers with wiggling brows.  
   
You hitch a breath and roll your eyes again. "Are you going to give me my tickets or do I need to tell your wife on you."  
"You wouldn't dare."  
"Watch me."  
Lando and you squint at each other, then he starts laughing. "So. Who's your new friend?" Lando types a few things on the touch screen of the terminal and prints your tickets, giving Bucky another once-over.  
   
You feel your cheeks heat up at the question. Not like it's difficult to answer. But you venture a guess in what Lando wants to hear. "Uhm... Lando, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Lando Calrissian, the owner of this theater."  
"Bucky, huh? Just... Bucky? Or... " Deep creases appear in Lando's cheeks but you cut him off with a warning squint. "Alright. Alright. Cool it." He laughs. "Better hurry. Movie is about to start."  
With that you grab your tickets and hurry to the screening room, pulling Bucky behind you.  
   
Once again, the theater is packed, and to your disappointment, your favorite seats are taken. All that's left are upper-level rows. You find two empty seats, grumbling a little, which makes Bucky cut off a laugh. "What?"  
"You're adorable." He whispers, leaning a kiss onto your brow, and you, like so many times since you've met him, feel warmth creeping to your cheeks.  
   
At least Bucky seems more comfortable this time around. You know he's more comfortable, because unlike last week, when he'd sat more confined to his space, this week he stretches out a bit more, even doing the cliché over the shoulder arm move to hug you to his side, to which you try your best to mute another snicker.  
   
Halfway into the movie, you hear the low buzz of a vibrating phone. Bucky shifts and plucks his cell from the back pocket of his jeans, shielding the screen as best as possible. "Gotta take this." He whispers, then ducks his way to the exit, a few angry stares directed at him, and one perplexed one from you. Ten minutes later he returns, two large sodas in hands and a sorry on his lips.  
   
You snuggle back into Bucky's side and he squeezes your arm. "I'm not keeping you, am I?" You whisper with a worry laced timbre.    
He kisses into your hair, squeezing your arm again. "No, Doll."  
 _Doll, again._ That he'd called you this earlier hasn't slipped past you. Not that you mind. You find it somehow charming. Especially with his accent. Actually, especially with everything about him. The way he seems so gentle. The way he smiles. The way he holds himself. Everything.  
   
The movie ends with you snuggled even closer into Bucky's side, one of your arms around his torso. If it wasn't for the fact that you two are at the theater, you'd have stayed this way. But alas, the snuggles end. And with that, this evening. Or so you assume.  
   
Bucky walks back with you to your car, hand in hand again, you ready to unlock your vintage Beetle when Bucky tugs on your hand with his right while scratching over the back of his neck with his left. "Uhm... wanna go to Mach Two?"  
 ** _Fuck yes!_** You think. And apparently blurt out because Bucky halts and takes a step back at your excitement. "I mean... yes. Sure. Totally." You try to downplay your reply, eyes wide and cheeks burning. _What the fuck, brain? What. The. Fuck?_ You internalize before finally unlocking your car.  
   
The drive to Mach Two is not even two minutes, but parking is crammed, so you have to circle a few times before finding a spot. Not that surprising for a Friday evening. People love to wind down at the end of the week. So it's also not surprising that the bar is bursting at the seams, people standing a bit stranded outside the doors. What is surprising, however, are the two security standing by the entrance. A first for Mach Two.  
   
"Geez. Looks like Poe is busy." You state with wide eyes and Bucky squeezes your hand, pulling you to the door when you're trying to get in line. "Uhm... Bucky. People waiting..." You look back over your shoulder but he holds firmly onto you.  
"Sorry dude. Place is full." One of the bouncers states and Bucky squares his shoulders a bit.  
"The owner said, we'd be on the list." This is as confident as you've ever seen Bucky. Not that he lacks confidence, but towards you, he's been soft-spoken. To others, usually, too.  
   
Obviously, this is your lucky day. First Bucky actually shows up to the dance. Then a movie. Then wanting to extend the evening with you at your favorite dive. And now Poe pops his head out the door just on time, smiling ear to ear when he tells the bouncer that "They're good."  
   
You squeeze past, Poe pulling you into a tight hug once inside, actually lifting you into a half-spin. "[Y/N]! So glad you made it." Poe releases his hold then shakes Bucky's hand. "Thanks for making sure." Poe's smile doesn't wane and you quirk a perplexed brow.  
"Making sure? Making sure what?" You look back and forth between Bucky and Poe, and Poe laughs.  
"You really haven't told her, huh? Good man." Poe pats Bucky on the back.  
   
Before you can ask again, you spot the cause for Poe's great mood. Sporting a brown leather jacket and a smile as wide as Poe's, you catch Poe's better half weaving his way through the crowd towards you. "Finn!" You yell, arms closing quickly around him, you both holding a long embrace. "No wonder it's so busy. When did you get back?"  
"Yesterday." Finn beams.  
"And you didn't tell me?" Your eyes dart, fierce stare, to Poe first, then to Bucky and they both flinch.  
"I wanted it to be a surprise." Poe wiggles his brows, then winks.  
 _What's that about?_ "Surprise? What happened to our tradition?"  
"We'll play poker next time." Finn smiles, offering a wink of his own.  
   
Your gut is telling you something's up and you quirk your brow again. This time a suspicious one and Poe and Finn exchange fleeting looks. "Okay. What the fuck is going on?" You ask when you catch Bucky doing the same.  
   
Bucky tilts his head and you shrug your shoulders. He tilts his head more, eyes casting down a bit and you follow the line of sight to Finn's arm, but you still don't see. "What? I don't get it."  
Bucky chuckles and gently cups your face by the chin, adjusting your line of sight to Finn's hand where you finally see what all the excitement is about. "Oh... my... god... OH MY GOD! Oh my god oh my god oh my god!" You jump up and down, arms flinging back around Finn. "It's about time." You capture Finn's hand and trace over the silver ring. "When?"  
   
"Last night." Finn smiles an abashed smile.  
"And you didn't tell me, Poe? What gives?" You pout, and Poe rolls his eyes.  
"I had to be sure." Is his excuse.  
"I told you Finn would say yes... No matter. I'm so happy for you two. When's the wedding? Ohhhh... and where? And who's invited? You guys going to have a registry? " The questions spill from you like a waterfall and Poe shakes his head.  
"Do you see why I wanted to keep it a secret?" He gears at Bucky and Bucky laughs softly. "So, what's new between you two? Dance. Movie. Drinks?" Poe takes lead to behind the counter and pulls the bottle of Old Crow from the security cage, pouring Bucky a glass on the house.  
   
"I can't keep accepting this." Bucky pushes the glass back.  
"Consider it a thank you for not telling [Y/N]." Poe replaces the glass back in front of Bucky. "Now, tell me. How was your day, Sergeant?"  
Bucky's head tilts back with a huffed chuckle. He takes a sip from his whiskey and gazes your way, you still excitedly talking to Finn. He takes in every detail of you now. The way you move around your friend. You're comfortable for sure the way you keep hugging Finn. The way you laugh. Genuine, with a spark behind your eyes. The way you move your hands when you talk. You get quite animated. "It was... amazing." Bucky returns his attention to Poe, Poe lifting a semi-amused brow.  
"I can see that." He states, topping off Bucky's glass.  
   
The rest of the evening and night is spent with your attention split between your friends and Bucky, a growing comfort between you and him, and it shows. First, you stand close to him, occasionally brushing a hand over his arms and hands. Then either you or he has an arm around the other in light side-embraces. Now and then you even lean your head against his shoulder, him always taking in the scent of your hair.  
   
Those things already have your heart rate up. But it's the soft kisses Bucky teases into your hair that set off the butterflies. And each time he holds the kiss a little longer. Eventually, a few kisses migrate to the side of your brow or your cheek which you accept like he's always done this. Even Poe, who's usually very affectionate with Finn, quirks a surprised brow at you and your willingness for PDA.  
   
When late evening makes way for late night, the bar starts to settle down. It's still packed but not as much as when you'd arrived. It's during this time that Poe takes the small stage in the back of the room, a vintage Gibson Golden Era in hand. Not surprising to you really. But Bucky sits a bit wide-eyed, especially when Poe sings ["At Last"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vjmz2827cdc), which he makes sound surprisingly amazing with guitar accompaniment.  
   
"If there weren't so many people, I'd ask you to dance with me," Bucky whispers into your ear from behind as you lean against him sitting on a bar stool.  
"Maybe next time." You whisper back, and you feel Bucky nod into the curve of your neck, him leaving a dainty kiss just behind your lobe which sends shivers down your spine. _God damn._ It's a good thing you're not alone with him right now because that right there sets off a little more than butterflies.   
   
The song ends. Applause is a given. Poe hops off the stage, bee-lining for Finn, and the two share a passionate kiss which causes the crowd to cheer and whistle. Finn buries his face in Poe's neck and Poe kisses Finn atop his hair, with the widest smile any human could ever display.  
   
Before you know it, it's way past midnight, and like the week before you've had a few drinks, meaning you have to leave your car behind, yet again. Unlike the week before, you've had food this time around. The evening wasn't just talking, after all. But talking, and drinks, and home-cooked dishes Poe's friends had brought along for the party. You're definitely walking more steady this time.  
   
That doesn't keep Bucky from holding a tight arm around you. It is late after all. And while this neighborhood is safe, one never knows.  
You arrive at your apartment building, Bucky once again taking lead down the stairs to your apartment, and you snicker. "I could've made it down the stairs myself, you know."  
"I know, Doll." Bucky's hand is still around yours. _Doll again._  
You get your keys from your purse and this time they don't drop to the ground but stay firmly in your hand.  
   
So many differences from last week, yet this next one is the same. That awkward moment right before saying goodnight, except this time..., this time you don't want him to leave.  
You gulp. You've never truly needed courage for anything. You've always been the jump in feet first type of person. But this is different. This is nearly scary. You gulp again, sliding the key into the lock of your door. "Uhm..." You start, holding a hand against your door. "Do you... Do you want to come inside?" God, you hope Bucky didn't hear that slight tremble in your voice.  
   
Your focus goes from door to Bucky where you're met with furrowed brows. "Are you sure?"  
You take a breath in. You've never been surer than this. "Yes." You open the door wide, your arm gesturing for Bucky to step in.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but also not sorry.  
> This chapter took a completely different turn from what I'd initially planned today.

You quietly close the door, holding a breath before you turn around, taking in the sight.  
Bucky stands in the tiny hallway of your tiny abode, peering around, a bit unsure of himself.  
"Uhm... living room is straight ahead." You nearly whisper, your heart pounding. You still cannot believe he's inside the apartment. Your apartment. Your haven away from everyone and everything.  
   
Not like you never have people over. Friends come over now and then. You play games, watch movies, or just because. Your upstairs neighbor, in fact, pretty much lets herself in by now. It's a BFF type of relationship with her. So it's not unusual to have people over. But in your time here, since you've left NASA guy, you've never invited anyone in you barely knew. Especially guys you liked like that. Actually..., you doubt you've liked anyone like that. Not since NASA guy at least.  
   
Sure, you've had a couple of things in your two years here. Short term things. But it never got to the point to let them into your home. And that's because those couple of things were different. You can't quite explain it. You liked them but they never fully set your heart afloat or your mind racing. Nor did it ever feel past an "I see myself with this guy in a year from now" stage, or heck even a "month from now". Something always lacked. Something... something... Something you can't quite pinpoint. You just know that right now you're standing in your apartment with him. Bucky. And he has that something. That something that makes you feel comfortable enough to invite him in after just the third date.  
   
Bucky slowly paces into the living room and you follow a few steps behind, still observing him, still taking in his reactions. He peers around, a warm smile on his face when he catches you standing in the doorframe of the hallway. "Cozy." He lightly pushes an amused breath through his nose, eyes going to the sofa and you rush to pick up the scattered folders there and on the coffee table, also gathering empty coffee mugs in the process.  
   
"Sorry. I was grading a few things last night. Uhm... it's kinda crammed. You know, teacher salary and such." The words tremble a bit as you tidy up some, which basically means tossing the folders on the table in the adjacent dining room, and the mugs in the small kitchen around the corner from that.  
"I don't mind." Bucky still smiles, still standing.  
"Uhm... uh... would you like something to drink? I've got soda, some beer... uhm... I can make you some tea... or water..." Your offers sound wispier by the second, mainly because Bucky's slowly inched his way towards you, now standing a breath away.  
   
He's got that something alright. You've never felt this comfortable and nervous at the same time with anyone. Not with whomever you've dated last. Not with NASA guy, either.  
Bucky moves closer, yet, his right hand going to the left side of your head, ungloved. He plucks the daisy he's placed behind your ear at the sock hop, twirling it between his fingers.  
"I completely forgot about that." You whisper with a shy smile, and Bucky pushes another soft breath through his nose.  
   
He gently places the daisy on the coffee table and inches even closer to you, ungloved fingertips running lines down your cheek. Soft skin against soft skin. His eyes hold amazement, as though he's never touched a human being before. A gentle thumb traces your lips, and when you close your eyes it's not long before you feel silky warmth against your mouth, then velvet again. And this time it's not just tracing arches and delicate curves. This time velvet edges its way into your mouth, soft pressure, gentle massage. And all of it while Bucky pulls you closer to himself, gloved titanium pressing against your back, soft skin holding the nape of your neck.  
   
By the time Bucky releases you from the kiss, your lungs feel on fire. Lack of oxygen the culprit. A deep inhale is unavoidable and so is that long gasp once you exhale. You stand, mouth parted and mind on a different plane of existence. God damn, that man knows how to kiss. And god damn because for all the comfort you feel, for all the gentleness you want, lust crashes over you, and you kiss back. Passionate. Wild almost, really. Roaming hands tangling hair. Gentle nails scratching the back of his neck. Your body closes what minuscule gap is left because you want to... No! You need to feel him close, closer, closest!  
   
You pull away from Bucky's lips, needing a moment to process how you feel. Your heart pounds, head spins, you gasp for air. Forwardness may have waned and grown today, more waned really, but now, in an instant, it's back in absolute. You want this more than you've wanted anything in a while. Forwardness is back full swing. You know it is because it's your hands and your lips that go for the next move first: the top button of Bucky's long-sleeved dress shirt and his lips. But before you even get the chance for another kiss, you feel tension surge through Bucky's body, then his hands are tight around yours.  
   
He's stopped you, gentle but full force, and you take a step back to study his face. For the first time, there's no smile. Just a shocked look. Almost like fear.  
"I'm... I'm sorry. I... uhm..." You don't know what to say. The way he'd just kissed you. The way he'd held you, you are sure he felt the same.  
"I should go." Bucky frowns when he sees the confusion and disappointment on your face.  
   
He's ready to turn but you hold tight to his hands. One gloved, one ungloved. And suddenly it hits you. Why he's stopped you. Why he might be afraid. "Bucky... don't go. It's ok. We... uhm... we don't have to... we can sit and talk." You hate sounding this desperate but you can't help it. Sex wasn't really on your mind until that kiss. Okay, maybe that one time at the bar, when he'd kissed behind your lobe. But that's not the main reason you've invited him in. First and foremost, you just want to be around him. Be close to him. Hear him talk. Laugh with him. See him smile, because you love his smile. _Love? Good god. Brain, why are you thinking that now?_  
   
"Bucky..." You squeeze his hand reassuringly, but unsure what to say next, and he stands somewhat perplexed, still frowning because how could he turn you down. He enjoys being around you. He enjoys hearing you talk, and laugh, and he definitely loves seeing you smile.  
Bucky gulps, guilt taking over his posture. Slumped shoulders, sad eyes, hanging head.  
You cup his cheeks, leaving a gentle kiss on his lips, then step back, hands back around his. "It really is ok. I understand. I do." You step back again, letting go of his hands, then do something you've not done in bright lights for a while. Not while someone watches you.  
   
You tug on the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head, catching a disbelieving stare when you discard the garment to the floor.  
"Doll. What are you doing?" Bucky's eyes wander over you.  
You're not naked naked. You're still wearing your pants and shoes, and your bra. But you feel exposed nonetheless. "Remember when I told you there was an accident? While I worked at NASA?"  
Bucky nods his head, mouth slightly parting as he gives you another slow once-over.  
"And that people got hurt?" You whisper as you turn to your side and slowly lift your arm.  
   
You wait. You're not sure why. Maybe for some kind of reaction. A gasp. An "oh my god". Even another "I should leave". Instead, you feel a soft touch against your side. A very soft touch.  
"I'm so sorry, Doll," Bucky whispers while he, ever so gently, traces a thin line down the angry scar on the side of your torso. Red, quite wide, and in some places branched, almost like lightning had been the cause. His hand comes to a rest on your hip and he gently nudges you to turn to him.  
   
Your eyes cast down and you bite your lower lip. Bucky's hand resting right below the scar overwhelms you. And so do his gentle eyes when you finally look up. So much warmth, so much care. It's too much. Your face falls before the tears, but once they do you let go completely.  
You understand, alright. Why Bucky is scared. Why his first instinct was to stop you. And now he saw why. And you stand crying because the one thing you've never felt comfortable doing around the others, the ones you've just liked, is crying. But Bucky is different. You can feel it. So that's what you do. Cry. In his arms. Against his chest. And he holds you for as long as it takes you to release whatever you've held back for so long.  
   
You're not sure how long you stand that way. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Twenty? All you know is that Bucky lifts you with such ease into his arms, it makes you giggle if somewhat sniffled.  
"Where's the bedroom?" He whispers.  
"That way." You gesture with your chin towards an angled door by the dining room.  
Bucky carries you there and shoulders the door walking backwards for it to open fully.  
   
He chuckles at the collection of pillows on your bed, then gently drops you to the floor.  
You bite your lower lip again, looking to the bed. "Bucky?"  
"Yes, Doll."  
"Will you... will you stay?"  
Bucky smiles the warmest smile yet. "Sure."  
You exhale in relief, leaning a kiss against Bucky's lips. No exploration. Just lips against lips. "I'll go change." You smile, grabbing some pajamas from the dresser opposite your bed before you disappear to the bathroom.  
   
When you return, Bucky sits on the edge of your bed, covers drawn, and pillows propped up however. He's holding a little plush bear, and you scrunch up your face.  
"Uhm... yeah... he usually sits on the dresser." You snicker, taking the plush from Bucky, and Bucky chuckles.  
"Is it ok if I leave my clothes on?" He asks as he watches you crawl onto your bed.  
"Of course. But lose the boots." You toss a pillow his way and Bucky rolls his eyes. That's a first. _So he does have a bit of sass in him._ You think, giggling as you pull the covers over you.  
   
Another minute, then Bucky crawls on the bed next to you, his titanium arm on the far side from you. He's heavier than he looks, the way your mattress sinks more on his side, but you don't mind. He's still here. With you. In your bed, holding you close. Sure, this didn't turn out as you'd hoped, but this is better. So much better.  
   
You nestle your head against his chest, his warmth having a tranquilizing effect.  
"Bucky?"  
"Hmmmm."  
"Thank you."  
"For what, Doll?"  
"For staying."  
"Hmmmm. Then I have to thank you, too."  
"For what?"  
"For... letting me in."  
   
You chuckle a breath against Bucky's chest. You're sure he means more than just inviting him into the apartment.  
   
"Bucky?"  
"Yes, Doll."  
"Take it off."  
"Take what off?"  
"The other glove. Take it off. For me, please?"  
   
Bucky hitches a breath. There's no hesitation really, but you can feel some tension in his body like he knows what you might ask next.  
You flip to your other side, back to him, scooting as close to him as possible. "Bucky?"  
He chuckles. "Yes, Doll."  
You reach back, and when you find his titanium hand, tug on it. "Hold me." You request.  
   
Bucky could've said that he already is. After all, you'd laid nestled between the arm he still calls his own and his chest. But he knows what you mean. So, as gentle as possible, he wraps his metal arm around you, the weight of it a bit more than you thought, but you don't mind. You're comfortable, and so is he, the way his body relaxes against you right before you fall asleep.  


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slow. On purpose. You'll see. More of an in-between chapter.  
> Also, have I mentioned, I'm a sucker for first meeting stories and super fluff. Well this is pretty much super fluff.

Your mind comes to the second sunlight filters into your room. Cozy Saturday morning. Cuddly warmth. And... another body wrapped around you?   
Your eyes shoot open, hazy with sleep. You peek under the blanket, a metal hand splayed on your lower stomach, the rest of the arm hidden in black fabric.   
  
Your mind backtracks, your mouth curling into a content smile. You’d almost forgotten that he'd stayed over. It’s been a while, after all. That feeling of a warm body next to you in the morning, in your bed, something you’ll need to get used to. Funny though. With him, this feels... natural. Like that’s where he belongs. Like that’s where he’s always been.  
  
You inhale deeply. His scent hangs in the air, intermingled with yours, and scents of sweat. You listen, wondering if he’s awake. If he is, he’s pretty good at keeping his breath in rhythm. You listen some more, unable to tell. The only movement is the even raises of his chest. Other than that, there's just comforting stillness.  
   
Your curiosity gets the better of you and you slowly roll over in his hold.   
“Morning, Doll.” He whispers once your eyes meet his, a smile already gracing his face.   
You study his face, ocean blues dulled by dark circles beneath. Your own smile wanes almost instantly. “Did you get some sleep?”  
He teases your nose with his index, giving you a tired half-smile. “A couple of hours.” He rasps out.   
  
The way your brows contract indicate disapproval and concern. “Bucky...” You start, detailing his face with your fingertips, specifically the dark circles under his eyes.  
“Don’t worry, Doll. I’m used to it.”  
 _Used to it? Used to not sleeping. Or used to not getting much sleep._ You ponder. Thing is, you know his type. Ex-military. Ex-soldier. He's seen things. Been through things. Done things. The type of insomnia that comes with his experience is thus not surprising. But you venture it's more than that. More than World War II stories. More than memories that are decades old.  
   
You trace his lips with your finger, choosing not to press the matter. For that, you haven't known him long enough. You only hope that your silence and gentle touch is reassurance that when he's ready to talk, you'll listen because, like him, you've seen things, been through things, and done things. So you hope that he knows you're here for him. Even though you've only known each other for three weeks.  
   
You hitch a breath, leaning up, giving Bucky a gentle kiss, and he, in turn, pulls you closer. Just enough to close tiny gaps. Just enough to hold on to cozy, morning warmth. He releases his hold and you squish your face into his chest, letting out a groan.  
"What's wrong?" Bucky chuckles at your grumbles.  
"I have to finish grading the papers."  
"Oh... well, don't let me keep you, Doll." He now twirls a strand of your hair, kissing the top of your head.  
"Noooooooooooo... I don't wanna. It's the weekend." You fold your arms over Bucky's chest to rest your chin, pouting, and he laughs, his body actually shaking the bed a little.  
   
"Come on, Doll. I'll make you breakfast." He offers with a wide smile but you roll your eyes.  
"But bed... warm... snuggles..." You mope and he laughs again.  
"We can get more snuggles later." Bucky stops playing with your hair, face quite serious now, eyes very focused like he's asking indirect permission to spend more time with you.   
You smile over the edge of your arms and hum. "I'd like that." You whisper and he nods.  
   
You cuddle a little while longer, nature eventually forcing you out of bed. When you return from the bathroom, Bucky is already up. He's started the coffee machine and is searching through the fridge. You take the chance and sneak up to him, hugging him from behind, and he captures your hand for a swift kiss on the back.  
"Omelet or scrambled eggs?" He asks, pulling a carton of eggs from the fridge.  
You kiss the back of his shoulder, thinking for a moment. "Whatever you consider your specialty." You grin into his shirt, and he, once again, laughs.  
   
"You mind if I use the bathroom, first?"  
"Sorry. You have to hold it till you go home." You crack, and Bucky sticks out his tongue. " 'Course you can use the bathroom. You don't have to ask. Just... no snooping." You squint.  
"So, search through the cabinets? Roger that." Bucky chuckles, and this time you stick out your tongue.  
   
You gather the folders from the dining room table, sifting through to see which you've graded already. _One third? How the fuck did you only grade one third?_ You groan, again. The downside of teaching. Bringing work like this home. Bucky being here doesn't help. You catch yourself watching him cook breakfast between papers, focus declining by the minute. At some point, you give up entirely. There's no way you'll be able to grade these physics papers fairly. Not while he is here. _There's still later, right?_ You tell yourself, watching Bucky with your chin resting on your propped up hand, and he seems completely oblivious of you ogling him.  
   
That is until he's ready to set up the table. He smirks knowingly and you just shrug.  
"What happened to grading papers, Miss [Y/L/N]?" He chuckles, searching through kitchen cabinets for plates, cups, and utensils.  
"Can't help myself. The view is too perfect, Sergeant Barnes." You grin, clearing the dining room table so you two can eat breakfast.  
   
Once the table is set, Bucky waits for you to take the first bite. "Omelet. Nice." You smile, taking a bite. "Oh..."  
Bucky's brows go up with a nod and you scrunch your nose. "Good?"  
"Very good."  
You two sit quietly. Just enjoying each other's company for a while, eating breakfast. Only Bucky's cell chiming interrupts the tranquility of the moment.  
   
He glances over the display, brows furrowed. "Shit."  
"Everything ok?"  
"Yeah. Forgot about the morning run."  
"Oh... if you have to go..." You start, but Bucky shakes his head.  
"No. It's ok, Doll. It's not a test or anything. Just a run." He shrugs, then drags in a long breath. "I do need to get back to the facility, though. Shower. Change. Pick up an apple pie and ice-cream." Bucky smiles widely.  
   
"Oh right. Dinner with the Bartons. You need me to drop you off? I have to get my car first, but that won't take long." You offer, but Bucky shakes his head, again.  
"I'll take a cab back." He pauses to think. "Actually, if you want, I can get your car for you. Then take a cab, and this evening, I'll come and pick you up. So you don't have to worry about driving."  
You contemplate, then nod in agreement.  
   
Breakfast finished, Bucky pulls on his boots, and you catch yourself watching him, again. If you had a choice, you'd go back to bed and cuddle all day. But dinner at Barton's was promised, and you both intend to keep it. "Keys are on the board by the door." Your voice is quiet, some sadness tinged in there. _Geez. Brain. Get a hold of yourself. Not like you're not going to see him again._  
   
Bucky finds the keys, waiting for you by the door. "Do you have an assigned spot?"  
You make your way over, each step heavier than the previous one. "No. Wherever there is space." You're close to sniffling.  
Bucky inches closer to you, ungloved hands pulling you close by the hips."Okay. I'll drop off the keys when I pick you up?"  
You nod.  
"K, Doll. See you later. Six thirty." Bucky kisses the tip of your nose, and you nod again. "I'll be back." He smiles, this time kissing your lips. One of those kisses. The ones that leave your mind blank and your lungs hungry for air.  
   
You stare at the door closing behind Bucky, actually standing there a good minute or two before your mind returns to the now. _Get a hold of yourself._ You tell yourself. _Not like you're in... don't even think that word. Nope. No. That can't be. BRAIN!_  
You shake your head and make yourself busy. First cleaning dishes, then grading papers. Those things don't take care of themselves, after all.  
   
Halfway into grading more papers, there's a knock on the door. Quick triple. Long triple. Quick triple. You roll your eyes and open the door to a familiar face. "You've got a key." You stand, hip on hand, the young woman who'd knocked squeezing past you and into your living room, where she takes a seat on the sofa.  
"Wasn't sure if your visitor is back."  
"What visitor?"  
"Please. [Y/N]. I saw him leaving."  
You raise a semi-annoyed brow, biting the inside of your cheek.  
Beaming ear to ear, your current visitor is not about to let up. "So... Who is he?"  
"Just... just some guy I met." You try to lie but know you failed when a loud laugh cuts through the room.  
"That's not just some guy, [Y/N]."  
You quirk a brow. Damn that girl for knowing you too well. "How do you figure, Rey?"  
"Because he stayed the night. So tell me. Who is he?" Rey plants herself firmly, crisscrossing her legs, waiting smile on face, and you know she will not let this slide.  
   
"James Barnes." You take a seat next to Rey, trying to refocus on your papers.  
Rey's eyes go wide. "The Winter Solider? Holy shit."  
You toss your pen on the coffee table, tilting your head. "How does everyone know who he is?"  
Rey shrugs then returns to a toothy smile. "So... last night. Hmmmm... Hmmm???" She wiggles her brows and nudges you with her shoulder.  
"Nothing happened."  
"Really? Why?" That question is laced with genuine surprise.  
You shrug this time, not wanting to give away the true reason, then you go quiet, refocusing on the task at hand.  
   
"Sooooooooooo... are you going to see him again?" Rey keeps prodding on.  
You nod. "Tonight." You smile, biting your lower lip and Rey jumps off the sofa.  
"What the fuck are you doing grading papers, then? Go, get the fuck ready!"  
"It's just dinner with parents of a couple of my students... and ... him." You try your best to hide that abashed smile of yours but Rey is not oblivious.  
"Okay. And...?"  
"I'm not dressing up for that." You counter.  
"The hell you aren't." Rey points to your bedroom and you know what's about to come.  
   
Fashion show. Rey pulls nearly all your clothes from closet and dresser, and you sit on the edge of your bed and watch.  
"Ok, the dark blue skinny jeans and the cropped sweater."  
"Not a chance in hell!"  
"Alright. The stonewashed skinny jeans, and the slouchy, pink sweater."  
"Nope!"  
"Ok... ok... how about the dark blue skinny jeans and the blouse with the daisies. And the black converse."  
 _Daisies? Bingo!_ You think, internalizing a snicker at the thought of the daisy he'd brought to the sock hop. You grab the outfit and hang it by the bathroom door.  
   
"Makeup?" Rey beams ear to ear.  
"How about I shower first. And minimal. MINIMAL!" You go get ready, Rey waiting for you on the sofa.    
You shower and fix your hair, putting on mascara and some lip balm, then the outfit. A slow hand slides over the side with the scar, your mind going back to how Bucky had gently touched it. Not scared at all.  
   
You take a look in the mirror by the sink, spinning around, pleased with your choice. _Bucky will like this one for sure._ You shake your head. God damn these butterflies. God damn this feeling of your heart going a million beats per minute. God damn him for having your head spinning. It's just dinner. With friends of his. Parents of two of your students. Just dinner. Just... dinner... you tell yourself, but the excitement to see him again today doesn't wane. If anything, it's exploded since Rey showed up.  
   
This man. This man, with whom you've been out thrice, has you feeling upside down. On cloud nine. Freefall from one fluffy cloud to another. "Goddammit, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes." You cuss aloud. "What are you doing to me?"  
You take another look in the mirror, smiling an abashed smile at your own reflection. You know the answer. Even if you don't want to acknowledge it right now. Because how even?  
Three weeks. Three dates. Three of those kinds of kisses.  
But you know the answer. And all you can think is "Let yourself fall."   
 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I'm mentally prepping for another week in the hospital. It's a bit more distracting than I thought. Feedback welcome, but please be gentle.
> 
> Also, I love how this chapter turned out. Enjoy.

Bucky stands in front of your door. Quick glance on his cell's display shows eighteen-twenty. He pockets his cell and smoothes out the fabric of his gray sweater, then runs a nervous hand over the nape of his neck. Knock? Or ring the doorbell? Knock? Or doorbell? Knock? Bell?  
He takes a deep breath and pushes the button, the loudness of the chime startling him a bit. "Shit." He mutters, drawing in another deep breath while squaring his shoulders.  
   
"Oh my god... He's early." You panic. "Okay... okay... ohhhhh kaaaay." You look to Rey who holds an amused brow, still sitting on your sofa. "Blouse good?... Jeans?... Should I put on more makeup? Fuck..., you think I'm maybe underdressed?" You spin, then halt, waiting for an honest answer. "Reeeeeeeyyyyyy?"  
"Girl. You look great. Go! Open the door!" Your BFF points an imperious finger to the hallway and you bite your lower lip. You watch Rey pick up the empty glasses from an afternoon of talking, then snail to the hallway door.  
   
Why on earth are you so nervous? You'd seen him not even twelve hours ago. In fact, twelve hours ago, you had laid snuggled up next to him, comfortable and warm. Where the fuck is this nervousness coming from? _He probably looks perfect again._ You think, chancing a fleeting glance down yourself. _Should've worn the stonewashed skinny jeans..._  
"If you don't get your ass to the door, I'll carry you there," Rey whispers into your ear from behind with a hissed timbre and you jump. When did she even get there? Right next to you.  
   
You roll your eyes. Rey rolls her eyes. Squint. Squint. Clenched jaws.  
Courage. You need courage. A pinch into your arm and suddenly courage moves you forward. (Actually, it's the yelp you're sure Bucky's heard through the door.) One more look to Rey. She nods, then returns to tidy up some more. One more breath and you open the door.  
   
"Hey." You whisper shyly, running an even shyer hand over the helix of your ear as you let out an awkward chuckle. _JFC. Talk about fucked up second impressions. When the hell did you become this puddle of nervousness and doubt?_  
Bucky draws in a content breath through his nose, squared posture softening to a relaxed stance once he sees you. His eyes cast over you slowly, his already wide smile turning wider when he sees your blouse. "I... I..." He breathes, eyes a bit lost as he reaches for the edge of the sleeve to feel the fabric with his right hand, ungloved. "I love daisies." He whispers and you bite your lip, yet again. _Score!_  
  
His hand wanders up your arm, over your shoulder, to the back of your neck. A second of hesitation. A moment to see if you grant permission. One step closer to him is your ok, and he leans in for a kiss. Silk. Velvet. Soft warmth. Confident reciprocation. Poised, really.  
Your eyes staying shut even when he lets go extends the bliss. "Be still my heart." The words leave your mouth before you even realize you've said them, and Bucky offers a gentle laugh.  
   
"My god. You guys move any slower, we can ring in the new year." Rey's voice startles from behind and your eyes shoot open. "Hey there!" Rey closes in, coming to a stop next to you, and you wish you'd made her leave beforehand. "Rey. As in... I'm Rey, and you are...?" Rey stretches her hand to Bucky, knowing full well who he is, but she has to hear anyways.  
"James... James Buchanan Barnes. Nice to meet you, Rey. " Bucky accepts Rey's hand with a gentle squeeze.  
"Mmmmm Hmmmm... " Rey's eyes drag over Bucky from head to toe, a knowing spark behind her hazels. "Well... You two have fun. And remember: before you shake and bake, cage that...."  
"REY!"  
Rey cackles on her way up the stairs and you stand wide-eyed, wanting the earth to swallow you whole.  
   
Bucky stares after Rey, shaking his head with an amused smile, and you're sure all the blood has drained from your face. "She's even more forward than you." Bucky refocuses on you, catching your embarrassed posture right when he turns back to you. "You alright, Doll?"  
"Yeah... yes. Let's... Let's go." You chuckle at last.  
"Got your car keys." Bucky pulls your car keys from his pocket before you close the door. You grab them and trade said keys for your purse and house keys, taking lead up the stairs to the street.  
   
You peer around, Bucky stepping up to a dark SUV with tinted windows. The same car he'd used when he'd picked up Lila and Cooper. "Nice ride." You smile.  
Bucky opens the door for you and helps you step in, closing the door behind you once you're buckled in. He hurries to the driver's side, smiling at you before he starts the engine. "It's not mine." He reveals. "Company car." You can almost hear the quotation marks around company.  
   
"You don't have a car?" You ask when he pulls away from the curb.  
Bucky shakes his head, eyeing you from the side. "Motorcycle." His smile is almost impish now, as though owning a motorcycle is a rebellious act.  
"Nice. If I didn't have all that stuff to carry back and forth, I'd have one, too." You state confidently and Bucky chances a quick once over.  
   
His focus returns to the road ahead, and you gaze at him from the side. There's a content smile on his face. Like you've said something that makes him infinitely happy.  
You reach for his hand on the gear shift, noting that it's still ungloved, and wrap your hand around his. He flips his hand upside down and pulls yours to his lips. "My kinda girl." He says with such pride that you scrunch up your face. Your heart races and you're sure he can feel your pulse somehow. _His kinda girl._ You repeat to yourself, then look out the window, daydreaming away.  
   
 _His kinda girl. His._ Those words have you far away. On dusty roads. You with your arms around Bucky. An orange sunset in the distance. The low rumbling roar of the engine in your ears. The smell of leather and fuel in your nose. Carefree. Happy. Together...  
   
"So... what kind of bike would you get?" Bucky's voice catches you off guard.  
It takes a moment to collect your thoughts. "A Royal Enfield. Squadron Blue preferably."  
"Nice. That's an English brand." Bucky nods, impressed.  
"And you?... I mean... what do you have?"  
Bucky chuckles. "A Triumph Bonneville Speedmaster." He nods again.  
"Another English brand." You point out.  
"I fell in love when I was overseas." Bucky laughs. "I mean, it's not by the original company but..." He shrugs, a memory-stricken expression on his face.  
You gently caress his cheek from the side, then slide your hand back over his on the gearshift. "My kinda guy." You whisper, biting your lower lip, and from the corner of your eye you see Bucky's face light up even more than it already is.  
   
The rest of the way to the Barton's house, you're quiet. You keep your hand over Bucky's, but your focus is back in dreamland. And Bucky lets you. Even though he wonders what you're daydreaming about. The fact that you're holding his hand, subconsciously circling your thumb over his skin gives him hints that whatever you're lost in gives you peace of mind. It's not until you feel the slight shudder of the SUV getting set into park that you return to the now.  
   
"We're here." Bucky's voice is soft. He gets out and rushes to your side, once again getting the door for you, and you giggle.  
"I know how to open doors."  
"I know, Doll. I guess... I'm a little old fashion that way." Bucky holds out his hand, waiting for you. You slide your hand into his, and he helps you step out. "Can I tell you something? Before we head inside." Bucky whispers.  
A simple nod is your ok.  
Bucky leans in, breathing into the curve of your neck, leaving the wispiest of wispy kisses on your skin and you shiver, your knees nearly giving way. "I can't wait to hold you against me, skin on skin." He steps back, eyes detailing you carefully and warmly.  
   
You peer around, a large glass front house not twenty feet from you. Large yard. Big trees. A playground. You even spot a garden and a tree house. That daydream of yours expanding to more than dusty roads and orange sunsets. _His kinda girl._ Your attention returns to Bucky, ocean blues still studying you carefully and warmly. "Me, too." You whisper, abashed. How is this even possible? Three weeks. Four dates. Four of those kinds of kisses. You can't be. You just can't be... _How brain? How?_  
  
"Miss [Y/L/N]!" Lila's voice breaks the moment. Rushed footsteps and the girl reaches you with a tight hug in tow. Cooper is close behind, with another hug.  
"Did you bring apple pie? You said you would, Uncle Bucky." Cooper is quick to point out empty hands, a very serious expression on his face.  
"I sure did." Bucky laughs, gearing to the back of the SUV where he retrieves two bags.  
   
"Almost thought you guys got lost." Clint now approaches, hugging Bucky with strong pats on the back, and offering you a hand.  
"Nah. Just decided to adhere to the speed limit." Bucky wiggles his brows and your eyes go wide for a moment before a laugh bubbles from you.  
"Hmmmmm... gotta watch out with this one. He'll easily go ten over if he thinks there aren't any cops around." A female voice says behind Bucky.  
   
"Misses Barton." You smile, stretching out a hand. That first name basis still not quite settled in.  
"Please. It's Laura." Laura hugs you then takes lead to the house, everyone else trailing closely behind, the kids taking your hands as they excitedly chatter away, wanting to know everything you've seen on the drive here, and if you like playing UNO.  
   
Once inside, the mixed scent of pot roast and mashed potatoes invade your senses. And that of sweet carrots. "That smells fantastic." You state.  
"Wait till you taste it." Bucky grins. He toes off his boots and you, only now, take in his full get up. Gray sweater, relaxed jeans, gray socks, and next to him now worn in boots. Another quick glance and you see his metal hand ungloved, too. There's a sense of growing trust from him to you, but also a sense that he feels welcome here; definitely comfortable enough to not hide behind his gloves, which indicates to you that he comes by here on a regular basis.  
   
The fact that he knows his way around the Barton's kitchen is confirmation to the thought. Bucky sets the apple pie on an assigned serving plate and the ice cream goes straight into the freezer. No waiting for Laura. He just does it, then gets himself a glass from the cabinet and pours himself some soda.  
   
"Miss [Y/L/N]. You wanna see my room?" Cooper draws your attention away from Bucky.  
"Nuh uh! She's going to see my room first." Lila grabs your hand.  
"How about we let our guest decide what she wants." Laura holds a stern brow.  
You chuckle lightly, then grab Cooper's hand, too. "It's alright, Laura. I don't mind."  
"Okay. But... dinner will be ready in ten. And you guys had better wash your hands!" Laura warns while checking on the roast.  
"Yes, mom." Is a unified response. So are rolled eyes.  
"I saw that!"  
   
"She sees everything." Cooper takes lead and it's his room you see first. Dark blue hues and ocean decals are the first things you notice. Not surprising. You know the boy loves anything related to the ocean. He shows you around. His toy car collection, his action figures, and drawings of every fish possible. "And that's my fish tank." He proudly gestures to a medium, twenty-gallon tank and you stand impressed. "Dad showed me how to clean the filter. And how to take care of the fish. Those right there are Gymnocory... Gymnocory... Longfin Tetras. And that one is a Crown Tail Betta." Cooper points to the different fish.  
"Enough about fish. I wanna show Miss [Y/L/N] my room now." Lila grabs your hand and Cooper frowns.  
"We have lots of time to show me around more, Cooper. Maybe later you can tell me what the other fish are?" You smile, and Cooper's eyes light up.  
   
Lila holds tight to your hand and shows you to her room. Here, green hues are the dominant colors. Posters of rainforests are plastered on the walls, and a few terrariums stand on shelves by the window. Again, not surprising to you. "That's my frog." Lila gently taps one of the medium enclosures and you see something green dart from one end to another. "And those are my lizards. They're Green Anoles." Lila now gently taps one of the larger glass boxes. You look around some more, noting Lila's shelf stuffed with books about animals and trees, lots of plush animals taking up the top shelf. "I'm gonna be a vet." Lila proudly shows you a diagram of a cat she's drawn.  
   
You study the diagram, impressed by the details. "You'll be a great vet."  
"Mhmm.. Uncle Bucky says so, too. And Uncle Steve. Uncle Bruce sometimes helps me. Last week, he let me use the microscope in the lab so I could see what moss looks like really close."  
"Uncle Bruce?"  
"Doctor Banner. You know.--- The Hulk." Lila whispers the last part, and suddenly you're aware just how much these children are trusted with. Your brows furrow for a second, then Laura's voice echoes from downstairs. "Dinner!" And you remind the kids to wash their hands.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's throw the couple into the harsh reality that is the Avengers, hmmmm? Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Also, I've mentioned this before, I think. This story is about to go on a 1- 2 week hiatus. I have a week of hospital starting Monday, then a week of recovery. Until then, as always, feedback is welcome.  
> Hope to "see" you all in two weeks.

You take a seat by the rustic looking table, Cooper dashing to your left and Lila to your right, Bucky taking a seat across from you, a smirk in the left corner of his mouth.  
"I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My kids have not heard of manners." Laura raises a stern brow. "Maybe Miss [Y/L/N] wants to sit next to Uncle Bucky." She points out but you shake your head.  
"It's ok. I don't mind. You don't mind, do you, Bucky?" You smile at Bucky and he offers a soft-spoken "Not at all."  
   
"Well... you're our guest. You get food first." Laura stands up but you're quick on your feet and grab the ladle from the bowl of sweet carrots before she can.  
"Laura, you don't have to... uhm... you know, just do and eat like you usually would." You explain, sloshing some sweet carrots onto your plate before handing the bowl off to your right.  
   
_The Bartons are lovely._ You think. Well behaved kids. Friendly. Not pushy.  
And their house? Near perfection. Warm and welcoming, clean floors but all of it with a bit of an organized mess, as though everything was stashed away in a hurry. You peer around the table as you wait for the mash potatoes, fleeting glances directed your way. You can't help but think that this is not what the Barton's normally do. That this is not regular routine.  
   
From the moment you've stepped into their house, a few things have felt just too prepped. Just too much unlike them. Like they have to offer their best side as to not scare new guests away. Or maybe it's because you are their kids' teacher. As if you would judge them somehow. As if you'd let their lifestyle influence their kids' grades.  
   
Fact is, there's a smidge of discomfort in the air, and you have no clue how to break the ice. Truly break the ice. But you don't have to worry about that for long.  
Some fidgeting on your right side has you refocus, Lila smiling a toothy smile while looking up at you.  
   
"So..." Lila mischievously pokes at her food with her fork. Stalling technique to hype up suspense. "Since Uncle Bucky is your boyfriend, do we get to call you Aunty?" The girl blurts out and you nearly choke on a piece of carrot.  
"Lila!" Clint's voice holds a warning tone and suddenly everyone seems in a temporal flux, all motions paused and eyes on you!  
"No... no. It's ok. Uhm... what... uhmm who told you Uncle Bucky is my boyfriend?" You question, your eyes going to Bucky who seems barely able to contain a laugh now. He shrugs his shoulder in an "it wasn't me" way, his metal hand going to his face to hide his amusement at Lila's bluntness. Unsuccessfully!  
   
"Because." Lila shrugs. "He kissed you, like dad kisses mom." She states with such nonchalance you nearly drop your fork. Your lips part in shock, apologetic eyes going to Clint then to Laura.  
_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... Fuck... FUCK!_ "I'm... I'm... I... uhm..." You stammer, sitting somewhat horrified. _Holy crap. That's a first._ You're completely unable to string together a coherent response. Who the fuck would know what to say in this situation anyways?  
"I mean, it's kinda gross. But you know, having another aunty would be kinda cool." Lila tacks on and Bucky can't help to release his laugh at last.  
   
You throw him a look. Not annoyed. Not scared. Just that teacher in you, like Bucky is another kid at the table, and the parents are sitting right there with you. You peer face to face, waiting eyes on you, yet again. "Uhm... well." You collect yourself at last, smiling. "You may call me Aunty [Y/N], but only if your parents are ok with it. And at school, it's Miss [Y/L/N]." You search for approval from both Clint and Laura and when they nod their heads, you stretch your hand to Lila. "Deal?"  
The girl contemplates, thumb and index on chin, eyes to the ceiling before she accepts. "Deal!"  
   
"Alright, let's eat." Clint insists with a stern face and the kids snicker.  
After that conversation flows. Everything from hobbies, current events, and favorite movies, a heated debate breaking out over which Toy Story movie is the best. And all of it while the kids switch places, sometimes sitting next to you, sometimes next to Bucky, sometimes their parents.  
   
It doesn't go past you that despite all the talking, Bucky's voice is heard the least. You catch his lasting gaze more than once, warmth behind ocean blues, every time your lower lip ending up between your teeth in an abashed smile. You're fully aware that he noticed that you've neither confirmed nor denied the term boyfriend, even though now the kids call you Aunty [Y/N].  
   
After dinner, you help with the dishes, Laura staying behind while the rest go set up the living room for UNO and a movie.  
"You know." You start, leaning against the kitchen island. "In my parents' house, there used to be this rule. The cook doesn't have to clean. I'm sure Bucky wouldn't mind..."  
Laura shakes her head. "Clint usually does the dishes but... this gives a chance to talk." Laura wipes her hands on a towel after cleaning the crock-pot.  
   
You gulp. You figured there'd be a need to talk. You've actually been trying to figure out how to segue to that topic. You definitely appreciate the privacy of the kitchen now.  
"Clint told me about your idea. To get some help for Cooper." Laura pulls the ice cream from the freezer and sets it on the island, then starts drying dishes and you hurry to help.  
"Laura. As I told Clint, Cooper doesn't even have to talk. The counselor will sit in class, observing first just to get an idea." You reassure that communication is as much up to Cooper as it is to the parents to start the process in the first place.  
   
Laura halts, a hand on one of the cabinet doors while she hitches a long breath. "I... I agree." She looks to you, a heaviness behind her eyes. Admitting help is needed is never easy, and this remains a special case. The kids are trusted with things some adults would not be able to keep to themselves. "And maybe... maybe if you could talk to Lila now and then. She seems to like you quite a bit." Laura whispers. You hold a soft breath and Laura notices. "Only if you're comfortable."  
   
Your mind goes back to just before dinner. How Lila had whispered Uncle Bruce's alter ego. It dawns on you that Lila may seem stoic but that really it's a mask, the girl reminding you of a younger you. "No. I mean, I don't mind. So..., yeah, sure."  
Laura lays a gentle hand on your forearm, her eyes downcasting and shutting like she needs courage of her own. She looks up, a thin smile on face. "Thank you." She pauses again. "And thank you, for keeping them safe."  
"I'd never let anything happen to those kids." You squeeze the hand resting atop your forearm with your free hand and Laura nods.  
"I know. That's why Clint picked your school." she laughs softly, most of the heaviness lifting from her eyes. "Let's get dessert ready or else we might have a riot on our hands." She nods, again, joined laughter cutting through the kitchen a second later.  
   
You deliver the desserts to the living room where everyone else is eagerly waiting to start a game of UNO. Bucky smiles your way, getting up to help distribute apple pie à la mode before taking your hand to sit next to him in a two-seater sofa. Lila and Cooper scramble your way to sit by your feet, and with that, the evening extends to game and movie night.  
Halfway into Toy Story 2, you notice Cooper lulling off and Clint proclaims bedtime for his kids. "We'll be right back." He whispers as he carries Cooper upstairs, Lila protesting while trying to rub settling sleep from her eyes.  
   
Bucky's eyes stay on the Barton's until they disappear up the stairs, then he tugs you close by the waist, placing a tender kiss on your neck. He pushes a long breath onto your skin and you swear you can almost hear the gears turning. "So..." He nudges your face by the chin, an unspoken request to look at him. "Am I your boyfriend?" He gently traces his index down your nose, you amazed by just how soft his fingers are.  
   
Your brows pull down as you think about the night before. How he'd stopped you with gentle force because he was scared for you to see him without a shirt. Your hand runs down his titanium arm, and you can feel the shifting of metal plates. This time though, there's no tension on his part. He remains relaxed opposite you and you smile. "Is that what you want?" You whisper and Bucky traces his thumb over your lips.  
   
"Very much." He leans in, an endearing kiss following shortly after. Velvet stays contained, but it takes your breath away nonetheless. It's just in how he holds the kiss and in how he releases it. Slow, gentle, until distance breaks the bond of delicate skin stuck together by condensation of warm breath.  
   
Bucky runs the same index that had detailed your nose down the front of your blouse, playing with the buttons that keep the garment closed. There is soft desire behind his blues. A yearning. He's not undressing you with his eyes. You know what that looks like. Like hunger. This is different. It's as though Bucky is seeing through your blouse, his mind mapping out routes where he'd love to rest his lips. Where he'd love to touch your skin with his fingertips...  
   
"We have a guest room." Clint's voice interrupts, and this time Bucky sits near horrified and you hide behind the palms of your hands as you start laughing.  
"How about a real card game?" Clint winks, and Bucky agrees, as do you.  
Laura joins, offering beer and wine, but Bucky declines. "Driving." He smiles.  
Clint raises a brow. "With your metabolism, you can have one. Shit, you could probably have ten and still be sober."  Clint starts shuffling a deck of cards, and you somehow are unfazed by the fact that he's just cursed, despite never having him heard doing so.   
"Metabolism?" You look Bucky up and down. "The whole super soldier thing? You telling me you could've driven after the bar?" You tilt your head as though you're a bit angry.  
   
Bucky laughs. "Hmmmm... yes. But you know, gotta set a good example."  
"Fuck example. If I had known, I'd have had you drive me home." Your brow quirks high and Bucky pulls you close to kiss over the brow.  
"But then I wouldn't have been able to spend as much time with you."  
_What? God damn. Cocky fucker knew what he was doing._ You chuckle, leaning into the kiss.  
"We ready?" Clint starts dealing. "Deuce-to-seven. Aces are high. Opening bid, three pretzels." Clint winks and you cut off a laugh, accepting a glass of wine offered to you.  
   
The rounds are fast at first, you trying to get used to this variant of poker as Clint teaches you and really without betting anything. Once you get the hang of it, the game slows down, usually always ending up head to head with Clint, and that's only because Laura has dead giveaways. Heavy sigh when cards are bad and raised brows when they're good. Bucky has giveaways of his own, mostly winks, but somehow you get the feeling it's because you're no longer just his date. You're his girlfriend. _GIRL-FRIEND!_ You internalize that word. "[Y/N], you in?" Clint distracts you from your mind going down that dusty road leading into the orange sunset.  
   
You glance at your cards, face steady as you go all in. Confident posture when Clint tries to stare you down to see if you're bluffing but he gets nothing but a blank expression. "Ok... there's no way. But fuck it... all in because... I wanna see what you got." Clint pushes a heap of pretzels and gummy bears to the center and you grin widely. You lay your cards on the table, Clint's still cocky expression faltering when he sees your cards: seven-five-four-three-two. Best hand in deuce-to-seven. "Fucking hell." He whispers and you shrug, collecting your bounty. "Your girl needs to sit in when we're playing with the team." Clint rasps under a disbelieving huff of air.  
   
"Tony may just lose." Bucky laughs loudly, his cell ringing the only thing really stopping him. His brows furrow. He gets up and all you catch is "Barnes" before he disappears to the hallway.  
Not even a second later Clint's cell goes off, his expression as stern as Bucky's as he, too, disappears to the hallway.  
   
You catch Laura sigh as she starts cleaning up the living room, your instinct telling you that you're not going like what's about to happen next. Five minutes pass, then you hear the heavy trudge of boots.  
   
There's already an apology behind Bucky's eyes when he tucks his cell into his back pocket. "I'm sorry, Doll. We gotta go." His voice is low and filled with disappointment.  
You gulp, questions flooding your mind but you bite your tongue. You know that he likely won't be able to answer any of them anyways. All you manage is "Work?" and he nods.  
   
From the corner of your eye, you see Clint hugging Laura close before he gives her a lasting kiss.  
"Come back to me." Laura whispers, and Clint replies with an "I'll try my best."  
Bucky gently nudges you by the chin, that apology still behind his eyes. "I'll be back." He whispers and you hold back a "when?". Instead, you hug him tight, as tightly as humanly possible, your thoughts going back to your time in the Marines. You've never been on this side before. Never been the spouse or partner or family member. Never been the one who gets left behind.  
   
"You be careful." You whisper. _Fuck._ You wish you hadn't said that because now you'll hear the words you'd rather not. And both options suck.  
Bucky nods. "I promise." He whispers and you crumble internally. _Don't promise what you can't keep._ You think. _Fuck._ Fuck for thinking that _._ _He promised, so he'll be back._ You have to believe that because... because... because... _Fuck brain. Fuck. Just say the fucking word!_  
"See you later." You force out a smile. Like that makes it any better.  
   
Bucky nodding again doesn't help. Neither does the kiss he leans on your lips. It's the first time you dislike him kissing you. That's not the kind of kiss you're used to by now. Soft. Yes. Warm. Yes. But also that hint of uncertainty. _NO! FUCK THAT!_  
He turns to Laura, hitching a breath.  
"Don't worry, Bucky. I'll make sure [Y/N] gets home safe." Laura assures. And with that, they're off to wherever.  
   
You help Laura clean the rest of the living room, a heavy silence hanging in the air.  
The last of the pretzels collected and pillows fixed, Laura gets two new glasses and another bottle of wine. "I can call a cab, or," she shrugs, offering the best smile given the situation. "You can stay if you like."  
You look around while Laura starts some random comedy show on Netflix, the place suddenly feeling rather abandoned despite the kids sleeping upstairs, and you realize you rather not return home. Not without Bucky. Not while he's god knows where. And you venture, Laura rather not be alone with her worries either. "I'll stay." You smile thinly.  
"Wine?"  
"Sure."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of an in between chapter. Had to get back into the writing groove. But it builds to the next one. Feedback welcome, but please be gentle.  
> \---  
> *FRG = Family Readiness Group

 

You sit by the counter, an impatient index thudding in angry and erratic patterns against a full glass of gin and tonic.  
Your index.  
And who can blame you? Two weeks. TWO WEEKS it's been since you've heard from him!  
No text.  
No call.  
No email.  
At this point, you're crawling up the walls. Metaphorically at least.  
   
Not like you haven't been busy. Work has kept you on your toes. Finals prep and end of year event planning has given you plenty to do these last two weeks. You've even had time to hang out with your friends. In fact, you are hanging out with friends right now.  
   
But the longer time goes on without a word from him, the more restless you become. Restless and anxious; unable to eat, unable to focus. And what makes this worse - _in your mind at least_ \- is that you've only known him for a few weeks beforehand.  
Shit!  
Technically, you aren't even lovers, yet. And yet, your mind is with him.  
   
 _Where the fuck are you Bucky?_ You've asked yourself that question every night since he's left; eyes often glued to the display of your cell, hoping he somehow telepathically hears your question, but so far the display has always stayed dark.  
   
Your finger still thuds against the glass. Half full now. The happy laughter of your friends going past you as your mind dissects a few things.  
That Saturday, when he'd left, you'd spent the night at the Barton's, not wanting to be alone, nor wanting to leave Laura alone. It was interesting, to say the least. First, there was silence between the two of you while you both absentmindedly watched some show on Netflix. Now and then, your eyes would trail to Laura, studying her. How she laughed empty laughs and sipped on her glass of wine. And she'd do the same to you.  
   
Clearly, the way Laura had handled Clint's sudden departure, you know that she's been on that side for a while now. The supportive spouse who gets left behind for days or weeks at a time, not knowing where her love is. The spouse who knows not to question mission readiness or mission details because that's part of Clint's job, and sometimes you just have to accept that you won't get all the answers. That's something you can actually live with.  
   
Still, for you, this is a first. You've always been on the other side. Clint's side. And now you're on Laura's side and truth be told, you didn't anticipate your own reactions. Who the fuck would know what to do in a situation like that anyways unless they've lived that life for a while? Him suddenly gone, without a word where to or for how long, and cut off communication to and from his cell. By choice or rule. That, you aren't sure of.  
   
Laura and you had talked that night. You know that kind of talk quite well actually. That of a senior spouse who knows all the ins and out of life in service. When you'd been in the Marines, you'd sat in a few times during FRG* meetings. It was something, everyone had to do now and then. From junior enlisted to senior command. It was mostly to answer concerns the spouses had. Like how to get hold of command, what to do if there's a family emergency, and how to keep rumors at bay.  
   
Sometimes, usually during times of conflict, the questions became more dire. Will the husband be able to come home to witness the birth of his child? What if a spouse falls ill? Should people update their wills? Their advance directives? What if the service member is M.I.A. or worse K.IA.? Dire questions indeed. Questions that had to be answered honestly, and with a certain stoic distance as to not cause more worry.  
   
But now, the tables have turned. Now, you have all those same questions, the biggest difference between back then and now being that S.H.I.E.L.D or the United Nations (or whoever the fuck overlooks the Avengers now) lacks a certain transparency. Obviously to protect its agents. That, you understand. But even in the Marines, there'd always been some form of communication. Even though not much could be said about location or duration of mission, but at least service members had been allowed the occasional "Hello. I'm doing ok. I'm still alive.", and the fact that you aren't getting that now, drives you up the wall. And the fact that Laura had been so stoic that night while you'd been on the edge of falling apart, gets to you.  
   
 _"You've not dated anyone while in the service?"_  
 _"Yes."_  
 _"But?"_  
 _"They've all been civilians, like..."_  
 _"Like me?"_  
 _"Yes."_  
 _"And now?"_  
 _"And now, I'm dating someone like that. I... I... How do you do it, Laura? I'm guessing Clint leaves quite often. How do you deal with the uncertainty? What if...?"_  
 _"Try not to think that way. That's the first rule. They'll come back before you even know they're gone. And... if I didn't have friends. And the kids. People to keep me busy. Things to keep me busy... You get where I'm going with this..."_  
 _"Yeah... I do... I just... I've never had to deal with this from this perspective. Tell me, it's worth it. Tell me, that all those sleepless nights waiting for them, worrying about them, hoping they're ok, that it's worth it."_  
 _"*long exhale* I cannot speak for you and James. I can only tell you, that for me, it is. It's worth it because... when he comes home, when Clint isn't wearing that suit, he's just... Clint. My husband, father to my kids, awful cook, and even worse at picking wine. It's worth it, because... I'm in love with him and he's with me."_  
  
 _In love._ Those two words still ring in your mind when you finally finish your gin and tonic, Poe standing opposite you for another refill, eyes dark with questions because you've been here, at the bar, but not really. And it's not like you to be this withdrawn.  
   
"Still worried about Bucky?" Poe hits the nail on the head.  
You roll your eyes. "You're no different whenever Finn's not here." You frown.  
"Yup... you're right. That's just how it is, I guess. When you date someone in the service. And I know both sides."  
"Bucky isn't exactly in the service."  
"Last time I checked, S.H.I.E.L.D. is a government agency, again?"  
"Are the Avengers S.H.I.E.L.D.? I thought Stark ran all that."  
"Well, he has to answer to someone, right?"  
You laugh so loudly that you make the person next you flinch. "Maybe I should go chase Stark down, and have him tell me where the fuck my boyfriend is."  
"Ohh... so ... it is boyfriend!? Hmmmm..."  
"Poe!"  
   
"What? Stop being in denial. And stop moping. Here..." Poe drops a stack of binders in front of you, big grin in tow. "You've just been appointed maid of honor. Help me choose centerpieces."  
You squint, sucking away some gin and tonic. "Does Finn know about this?"  
Poe grins, again, head turning to his left. "Finn. [Y/N]'s agreed to be maid of honor!"  
"She has? Alright!" Finn's voice calls over some customers at the end of the bar and you huff out a breath.  
"Come on, [Y/N]. You know you wanna help us with this." Poe waggles his brows, a charming smile with dangerously deep creases following that, and you shake your head in amusement.  
"Only because I love you two." You open the binders at last.  
   
Time certainly flies when the mind is busy. Before you know it, it's two in the morning, way past your bedtime, even with it being the weekend. At least you and Poe have managed to narrow down flower arrangements to three choices, but not before Finn ever so elegantly fell asleep on the bar's counter, snoring and drooling a little now.  
"Need help waking him?" You snicker.  
"Nah, I'll wake him. Still have to clean the floors. You should head home, get some sleep." Poe lifts the last of the chairs on one of the tables.  
"Ugh... If only I could."  
"You've had five drinks. I'm sure you'll pass out. Just be sure to have some aspirin ready. And drink some water before you go to bed."  
You roll your eyes and Poe laughs. "I saw that."  
"Course you did."  
The noise of a car sounding its horn makes you jump.  
   
"That's your cab." Poe smiles.  
"I could've walked."  
"Bucky would have my head if he found out I let his girl walk home by herself while intoxicated."  
"When did you become such good friends?"  
"Ever since he's made you laugh."  
"Oh my god. You're so cheesy, Dameron."  
Poe laughs, again, then kisses the side of your head. "Good night, [Y/N]. And try not to worry so much. Bucky will be back soon, I'm sure. Hmmmm?" Poe nudges your chin with a soft fist and you nod.    
   
The cab ride home is short, less than two minutes, but you're glad you didn't have to walk. Not so much a cause of wobbly legs but two weeks of sleepless nights finally catches up with you.  
You're barely able to change your clothes once inside your apartment, the lull suddenly hitting you hard. Even that glass of water seems to take forever to down.  
  
 **Two weeks! TWO WEEKS!** And soon it'll be two weeks and one day.  
You inhale sharply, then glance to the nightstand next to your bed, laughing at the fact that Rey has left several boxes of different sized condoms in your bedroom the day she'd met Bucky, and that you have made no effort to stash them away.  
You roll yourself into your blanket, squiggling towards the nightstand and grab the note Rey has left behind, laughing again at your BFF's blunt words. _"If I had to guess, I'd say he's a large but hey, you never know, right? Anyways, no excuse now! XO, Rey."_  
   
You laugh again. She's always been like that. More forward than you. Not a care what other people think. If Bucky hadn't left that night, you'd likely have ended up needing one of those. That you are sure of. If Bucky hadn't left that night...  
   
 _God... Where the fuck are you, Bucky?_ You whisper, your conscious mind slowly drifting to dusty roads, scents of leather and fuel, an orange sunset in the distance, the low rumbling roar of an engine in your ears... low rumbling roar of an engine.... low rumbling roar... and three chimes.  
A squinted stare at an illuminated display, halfway in dreamland. "Doll, are you awake?"

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always write on a whim for this story, so I actually had no idea how this would play out, and I'm sorry it's not super kinky and dirty, but very vanilla, but I think for this story it fits. 
> 
> Also, sorry for only publishing two chapters this week. Life was busier than expected, and I'm back in the hospital starting Tuesday. Sigh. So, mini hiatus, again.

  
Dusty roads.  
Orange sunset.  
Leather and fuel.  
Low rumbling roar of an engine...  
Low rumbling roar...  
Low rumbling...  
Chimes? Three chimes? Again?  
_Fucking hell. That display is bright._ "Doll?"  
   
You sigh, your cell slipping from your hand onto the pillow next to you. There's the dusty road, again. The orange sunset. God; leather and fuel never smelled better than this. And the low rumbling roar of the engine is like kitten purrs to your ears. Ah, yes. Low rumbling roar... Low rumbling ... chimes, again? What the fuck? Did you really just doze off, again? Or was that part of the dream.  
   
You grab your cell, the brightness of the display blinding you again. "I'm sorry, Doll. Please text me when you wake up." _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._ You had dozed off! What the hell?  
"I'm awake." You text back. A half-truth because you are only half awake.  
Triple dots bouncing on the screen. "Did I wake you?"  
You glance at the time on top of the screen and scoff out a chuckled breath. "No." Another half-truth because clearly, you'd been on the cusp between dreamland and waking state. Who in their right mind wouldn't be at three in the morning? And after five gin and tonics?  
   
"Liar."  
"You half woke me."  
"Half woke you? Oh... I'm sorry, Doll. I should let you get some sleep."  
"I'm wide awake now." A full truth this time because now you're sitting up, the lull and buzz giving way to questions you want to ask, 'cause ... oh my god... he's texted you. After two weeks of radio silence, finally, some form of assurance that he's actually alive.  
   
You watch the screen, triple dots bouncing from his end. And bouncing... and bouncing... and bounc-ing...  
"Bucky? I know you're typing. I can see the little dots jumping. Just ask." You send the text with some annoyance because you're sure that he's aware that you've got a million-and-one questions you want to ask. First and foremost: **_WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN_?**  
   
Suddenly the dots stop. No text following either. You sigh, staring at the display. The urge to type another message is great, but you wait.  
One minute.  
Two.  
Three.  
Four...  
"Bucky? I'm not upset." Half-truth. You kind of are. But you also know that this comes with his line of work. The radio silence. As if the earth had swallowed him whole. Shit... you've been there yourself.  
You wait again. Only one minute this time. "Just." "Ask." You send two separate texts to convey reassurance that you're not upset.  
   
Triple dots. Pause. Triple dots. Pause. Triple dots. "Can I see you?"  
_YES!_ "Yes."  
"Now?"  
**_FUCK YES!_** "Yes."  
A knock on the door and you jump.  
   
You run to the door, ripping it open and there he stands, cell still in his hands. And suddenly time just seems to stop. It stops because you both seem frozen as you both take the other in, Bucky's eyes trailing over your fuzzy pajamas, and your eyes tracking over black leather and utility pants to heavy combat boots. The whole of him is a bit messy, and a bit dirty, like he'd come straight here from wherever it is he's been.  
   
Your eyes track back to his face and you hitch a breath. He looks worn. Dark circles under his ocean blues. Rough stubble the length of at least a week. And a few cuts peppered across his face like he'd fallen on some glass, the small wounds crusted with old blood.  
   
Hitched breath gives way to slow pants, the question you want to ask etching its way into your throat. You want to scream it at him. Maybe even punch him as you ask. Especially now, with the way he looks. **_WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?_** is caught in the back of your throat, but instead - _and you have no idea how as you're barely able to stand up anymore_ \- you dash and launch yourself  around him, your face burying into his neck, and he catches you with arms tight around you, a sigh of relief skipping across his lips.  
   
You don't even care that he smells of leather and sweat and clearly gunpowder and whatever else; or that his stubble scratches your skin or that his hair is a bit oily. He's HERE! NOW! ALIVE!  
"I've missed you, Doll." He whispers into your hair so quietly you nearly don't hear the words.  
"I've missed you, too, Bucky." You mumble against his neck, you still holding tight, afraid if you let go now, he'll disappear.  
   
Bucky starts forward into your apartment and kicks the door shut behind himself, and you stay curled around him. Not that he seems to mind. His grip is just as tight. It's not until Bucky reaches your bedroom that you dare to release your hold on him and he on you.  
   
Your feet reach the floor but your arms stay around his neck, gentle fingers carding through his hair as you gaze into his eyes. You trace to the cuts on his face, a new question on your mind and Bucky sees the gears turning. "I'll tell you later." He whispers, his hands curling around yours. He pulls your hands to his lips and kisses over your fingertips and palms, his eyes closing as he savors each small kiss like he's never kissed anyone like that before, and you can feel your entire body tingle with anticipation.  
   
If he pays that much attention to how he's kissing your hands, you wonder what it'll feel like once he kisses you everywhere else; once silky warmth drags over your skin; once wet velvet traces lines from one point to another. "Bucky." His name is but a sigh. You take a step back and reach for the hem of your pajama top, ready to pull it off but Bucky stops you with gentle force, his hands back around yours.  
   
Your brows pull tight and Bucky smiles, if somewhat drained, at your confusion. "My turn first this time, Doll." He says softly as he steps back and unbuckles his leather jacket. He pulls it off, wearing a black shirt underneath, and for the first time, you see more of his titanium arm. More than just his hand and wrist. The urge to reach out and touch is great but you give him space and time.  
   
Bucky waits a moment, gauging your posture, and when he's sure you're not afraid, he pulls off his shirt. You try your best to avoid a gasp. And that works, barely just. But your eyes go wide and Bucky notices. He takes a step back, that urge for flight kicking in, but you stop him with a whispered: "It's ok."  
   
For a second, your gaze trails over his half-naked frame. He's trained. Very trained. Just like you'd thought he'd be the first time you'd met him. But trained muscle doesn't hold your attention for long. Instead, your gaze goes to his left shoulder, right where metal meets skin. Angry scars branch from the prosthetic, some more twisted than others, and you can't help but reach for them.  
   
You gulp as you gently feel over the ridged edges, Bucky's eyes carefully following your fingers as you continue to trace each twisted protrusion; his breath shallow and heartbeat rapid, something that does not go past you. "Does it hurt?" You mouse out, eyes now on Bucky's blues and waiting, hoping he sees that you're still not afraid. That, if anything, him taking off his shirt first gives you a sense of comfort. And isn't that exactly what he wanted? When he'd said it's his turn first this time?  
   
"Sometimes." Bucky's voice is low, breath and heartbeat now steady and even because he sees you're not afraid.  
You stand quiet for a moment, eyes back on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." You whisper as you kiss over the angry lines, and Bucky sighs at the feeling of your lips against his skin.  
You take your time, and it's not until you've kissed every single branch that you slide your arms around his shoulders, an unspoken request behind your eyes to pick you up.  
   
So he does. Slowly, then carries you to your bed. Soft kisses and tangled hair is all there is while he moves you to the center of your bed. There's no rush. Just slow exploration of lips and tongues while you both have your hands in each other's hair, Bucky keeping his weight on his elbows as not to crush you beneath him.  
   
It's Bucky who stops first. Not so much to catch his breath, but to trace tender lines over your face with his index. Like he can't believe he's here with you. That you're allowing him to be this close to you.  
You cup his cheeks, placing a soft kiss on his lips, and nod, and he smiles at the endearing gesture because he sees that you want more.  
   
"I've missed you, Doll." He repeats. "I've missed you so much." He kisses his way south, over your pajamas until he reaches your ankles. He rubs over your legs, one or two tugs and your pajama bottoms come off. He chuckles at the sight of your panties and you toss a pillow against his head.  
"If I'd known you'd be back today, I'd have worn something sexier." You scrunch up your face and Bucky laughs, so you hit him with another pillow while he holds on to your legs.  
   
"I'm just teasing, Doll. I think they're cute." Bucky skims the edge of your panties with one hand, still chuckling at the little smiley-faced-flowers on the fabric. "Very cute." He leans down and kisses over the edge by your stomach. "Very very cute." He whispers, fingers hooking around the seam as he pulls them off; him gazing between your legs once he does, pulling his lower lip between his teeth because he likes what he sees.  
   
Fuck. How much you need him right there. RIGHT NOW! And he fucking knows, because you catch him biting his lip again, a cocky smirk in tow, so you toss another pillow his way, and he laughs a kiss onto your ankle, and another on your calf; your legs slowly slipping over his shoulders as he continues on; chuckled kisses making way for deliberate open mouthed exploration over your legs.  
   
You sigh out his name when he starts kissing the inside of your thighs, each time getting closer to where you need him most, his one-week stubble scratching in all the right places. "Bucky." You sigh again when he parts your legs just a little more. Just enough so he can fit his head right there, right between your legs. "Bucky." His name falls like a desperate plea when he kisses over tender lines, and your toes push into his back.  
   
"Plea...oh god... fuck." You cuss through a choked back breath, your head falling into another pillow, eyes going white as your hands search for leverage on the headboard.  
Of all things, you hadn't expected that.  
You'd expected something... something tame. Feeble licks. Awkward experimentation. Even with the cocky smirk he'd given you earlier. Instead, what he gives you has your nerves on edge and your heart jump to light speed. What he gives you is his tongue flattening right into you, dragging a wide line through your folds to your clit right before he sucks you in full force. Careful but full force.  
   
_Fucking hell._ You should've known, he'd know how to do that! How to get a nearly screamed first moan. How to get that first trembled shock through your body.  And god fuck, he knows how to continue too. Sucking and slowly circling his tongue around at the same time while holding you wide open with strong hands. Lucky he's strong because you're sure if he wasn't, you'd crush his skull between your thighs the way he's working you over, and over, and over, and over...  
   
"Bucky!" You gasp his name, you getting there with each swirl of his tongue, and the two fingers he's slowly pushed inside since. It doesn't take him long to find that spot that makes your hips squirm. And when he does, he keeps the pressure right there. Rubbing gently but firmly enough to tighten that rope that holds you together, all while cool titanium holds you in place at the hips so you can't escape.  
   
_Close. So close. So fucking close._ "Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" You cuss as your fingers twist into his hair, and he picks up the speed. Fierce tongue, skilled fingers. Friction. Fast friction. On the edge of pleasure and pain friction. _Fuck. Fuuuuuck!_ That rope is tearing away. Strand by strand... "JAMES!" His first name comes out with a wheezed scream; louder than you wanted, and you swear you can feel him smirk against you as you cum.  
   
"Oh god." You whisper. It takes a moment to come down from the high. A moment Bucky uses to drink away whatever sweetness you offer. A moment he uses to kiss his way back north, this time taking off your top along the way, him gently kissing over your scar on the side of your body on the way up.  
   
Funny how, with him, you'd almost forgotten about it. And even now you feel safe to let him kiss you there a few times over because, unlike with the ones you've only liked, Bucky doesn't shy away. He's gentle of course, but his lips rest a little longer on each section, and so do his fingers when he traces over your own twisted branches.  
   
He reaches your neck, no rush again, the way he leaves open-mouthed kisses against your skin, making your body tingle all over when he traces over your collarbone with heated velvet. No rush again, the way he massages your breasts with his human hand while sucking and biting on hardened bundles of nerves. No rush again, the way he presses his body against yours to feel you skin on skin, close to himself. At least, whatever parts of him are undressed.  
   
You look down, his utility pants looking a bit tight around certain parts, and bite your lips. You push against his chest and he rolls to his back. "My turn." You kiss behind his ear before snaking down his body and Bucky lets out a hollow breath.  
"Doll..."  
"Shhh..." You unbuckle his belt, working open the button and sliding down the zipper when you notice a tension surge through Bucky's body. "You want me to stop?" You ask with caution but Bucky shakes his head.  
"No... no... it's ... it's not that. Kind of haven't done this in a while. So... not sure..."  
"Oh? Oh... well. We'll take it slow." You smile, rubbing over Bucky's legs and he nods, relaxing into the mattress.  
   
You unlace his boots, chucking them wherever once you pull them off, then slowly take off his pants, hands rubbing up and down his legs, always ending at the edge of his boxers. A few more times, then you straddle him, massaging over his chest before peppering kisses over trained muscle, and he moans with eyes closed. "That feels good." Bucky's voice is heavy and you chuckle.  
   
You kiss his lips, then move down his body again, this time trailing soft kisses down the center of his chest over his stomach, stopping right on the edge of his boxers. Right where you see a hint of happy trail. He twitches and you chuckle.  
"Easy there, Sergeant." You tease softly. Your fingers hook into the edge of the waistband and Bucky lets out a rasped breath. And one more when he feels you slowly moving his boxers south. "We've..." Kiss right where waistband meets skin. "Got..." Kiss right down his happy trail. "Time..." Kiss right above where base meets pubic ligament.  
   
Bucky twitches again and you, at last, pull his boxers off over his legs, a lingering gaze going right there. You bite your lower lip. _He's a large alright._ Then kiss a thin line from base to tip and Bucky moans. A few more kisses, gentle teases with your tongue, and even gentler touches with your hands. More moans from him. Timid but deep from within his chest. More slow swirls and tender massage then your mouth closes around the tip, and Bucky moans again. Louder this time and you dare moving your lips down his length, at least as far as you can take, working the rest over with your hands.  
   
"Fuck." You hear him cuss, his fingers weaving into your hair. "Doll..." He gasps, hands tugging lightly at your hair to stop, and you withdraw, leaving a languid kiss right at the back of the tip.  
You kiss your way north, greeted with rapid breaths and lust-blown blues.  
"Sorry." He pants.  
You straddle him, your hands rubbing over his chest before you lean a kiss onto his lips. "It's ok." You whisper.  
   
You reach towards your nightstand, giggling at the different boxes atop, and Bucky follows your arm with his eyes. "Wow! Prepared huh?" He wiggles his brows and you push against his chest.  
"I'll explain later." You laugh and so does he.  
You grab one of the boxes and get out a condom, you studying his face attentively, waiting. A slow nod is his ok, a kiss from you onto his lips is yours.  
   
You tear away the wrapper and move off him for time being, gently rolling the condom down his cock and he moans at the feeling. You straddle him again, hands intertwining with his as you both kiss over and over and over, you both wanting to be sure the other is ready.  
   
It's you who moves a hand between your bodies. It's you who guides him in, your head falling back, lips parting when him filling you out is nearly too much. A tight stretch that's close to aching. "Fuck." You gasp when you start moving, feeling him hit sensitive nerves.  
"Fuck." He moans when he feels you clenching around him, as if you aren't tight enough already, his own head pressing back into a pillow while his hands twist into the sheets.  
   
"Bucky." You sigh, looking down on him, your hands on his chest to steady yourself, hips rolling slowly to give him time. He looks up, eyes meeting yours, and you smile. "Hold me." You whisper and his brows knit tight. "Hold me." You repeat, your hands sliding over his arms to his hands, tugging on them, pulling them to your hips. "Hold me." You say a third time, one of your hands moving to your front, the other holding tight to his titanium hand, cool metal sending shivers down your spine, and he understands. You are truly not scared of him. Or his arm.  
   
"Fucking hell." Bucky gasps as he looks down between you, watching himself disappear deep within you while you play with yourself, his hips moving down while yours roll up.  
"Bucky..." Your voice trails off as you pick up the pace.  
"I got you, Doll." He sits up, shifting position enough for you to move your legs around his waist and sit in his lap while his arms close around you, him leaving barely enough space for your continued self-touch.  
   
"Bucky..." You whisper into the curve of his neck and he kisses over your shoulder. "Fuck... James... I'm gonna cum." Your bodies move in synch. Slicked friction, push and pull, hitting all the nerves within you and around him.  
Bucky's hold tightens. "Right there with you, Doll." He says between stinging bites into your skin. "Right... there... with... you...." He rasps out, firm grasp from him making you ache as he squeezes the air from your lungs.  
"JAMES!" You barely manage his name in his hold, you wheezing a moan into his neck, your body tensing, then letting go, and he's right behind you, with trembling arms and a primal moan of his own.  
   
Hot breath, relaxing hold, Bucky kisses the same spot on your shoulder over and over. "You ok, Doll?"  
You nod weakly into his neck, your body going limp in his hold.  
"You sure, Doll?" Bucky's voice carries concern and nod again.  
"Just tired." You mumble and he chuckles.  
"Hold still." He whispers, his hand moving between your bodies to hold on to the condom as he pulls out.  
   
You whimper at him leaving you. You wanted to hold on longer than that, but you know that this is better, safer. Just in case. You're on the pill but still, just in case.  
Bucky kisses over your face, chuckling when he notices you slowly dozing off already. "I'll be right back." He whispers before guiding your body to lie down, and you nod, if somewhat in a haze. He chuckles again, then makes his way to the bathroom.  
   
You hear the faint sound of water running, the faint splashing of him cleaning himself off.  
Then you're on a dusty road, an orange sunset in the distance, the smell of leather and fuel crawling into your nose as you hold tight around him, Bucky; a content smile on your face as you ride off into the distance on his Triumph Bonneville Speedmaster, the low rumbling roar of the engine like kitten purrs in your ears...


	14. Chapter 14

Your eyes shoot open.  
Haze.  
Confusion.  
Heavy breath.  
_What the fuck was that even...?_  
You lift your weight to your elbows, the outlines of your bedroom furniture coming into focus as you peer around.  
"What a fucking nightmare." You whisper to yourself.  
   
Another moment of confusion and you peer around again. The spot next to you is empty. _Where on earth...?_ "Bucky?" You don't mean to whisper but somehow you do. _Shit. Had all of that been a dream?_ You shake your head. No! For that, it had felt too real. Not to mention, why else would you be naked? Unless in some heated fit of a dream you'd torn off your own pajamas.  
   
You take a deep breath in, soothing away whatever remains of the nightmare, only now becoming aware of the scent of fresh coffee in the air. And the low sounds of someone rummaging somewhere through your apartment. You peer around again, a wide smile growing on your face.  
   
There are his pants. And his boots. His shirt. And his leather jacket.  
It wasn't a dream. It was real. The whole thing. You sigh softly, thinking of last night. The way his lips had felt against your skin. The way his muscles had tensed below your hands. The way he'd looked into your eyes right up until...  
   
You trace an index over your shoulder, noting the little bite marks on your skin. His marks. Then you take another deep breath in, your nose close to your shoulder. You smile.  
You smell of him. His breath. His cologne. His... everything else.  
   
A dull thud draws your attention to the bedroom door. And so does a low hissed "fuck" coming from behind. You giggle. He's here. _Clearly!_  
He's here and he's making breakfast.  
You look around again. His shirt is still carelessly lying on the floor.  
He's here and he's making breakfast only in his underwear.  
   
You bite back a laugh. Quiet as a mouse you put on your panties and his shirt. And quiet as a mouse you open the bedroom door and peek out. You'd been right about him only wearing his underwear. And god, does he look as perfect from the rear as from the front. Trained trapezii. Trained derriere. Trained calves. Trained e-ve-ry-thing...  
   
You get lost for a moment just staring at him, biting your lower lip. It doesn't help that the sunlight highlights all his perfections. You nearly give yourself away with an exhale but catch yourself just in time. You want to watch a little longer. The tranquility of it all not going past you. Especially when you see sunlight reflecting off titanium.  
   
For once, he's not hiding it away behind a long sleeved shirt or sweater. For once he's ... carefree. After all, he chose to make breakfast this way. Baring his metal arm and his scars in the open.  
Subconsciously your own hand goes to your scar. Memories of his lips lingering there on your mind. How good it had felt. Not just that he'd kissed your scar but that he didn't seem turned off. How much you lo... _BRAIN!_  
   
You refocus. He's still not seen you. Good! Because you want this moment to last. Like a memory you need to have etched into your mind, because who knows how long he'll be around this time. You hate your mind going there. But given everything...  
   
He's setting up a tray on the dining room table. Two mugs already on it from what you can see. And two glasses filled with orange juice. The smell of something sweet crawls into your nose. Whatever he's making, smells delicious.  
   
You watch him a little longer. The only time he's not in your line of sight is when he moves into the kitchen. He moves back and forth a few times. Each time adding to the tray. Utensils. Napkins. Syrup.  
With the latter, he waits by the tray, looking it over. You see his head tilt, his attention going to a pile of graded folders on one of the chairs. He glances to the kitchen, then grabs one of the folders and you hear him mumble an unbelievable under his breath, which makes you snicker and him pivot on his heel.  
   
"Hey!" His voice is low, with a rasp. He gives you a once-over and smiles, and you amble his way. "Did I wake you?"  
"Nope." Your face falls for a moment, brows pulling tight as your mind goes back to the nightmare. Funny. You remember it being a nightmare but... other than a few screams you don't remember any of it.  
Bucky's hand slips under your chin, ocean blues filling with worry."You ok, Doll?"  
You nod into his hand.  My god, how good it feels to have him here.  
Here.  
With you.  
Now.  
In your dining room.  
   
Your eyes go to his chest, sunlight highlighting his perfectly trained muscles, and a few things that you'd clearly missed last night. Bruises. Some bigger than others. But already in various stages of healing, from deep purple to yellow. And cuts. Long cuts. Also already healing. In fact, you swear you can see one of them decreasing in length the longer you stare at it.  
   
You exhale a breath, then look back over his face, the cuts there nearly healed now. And now the questions pile up. Lots of them. Each time your lips part, a new one at the tip of the tongue.  
_Where have you been? - What happened? - Why didn't you call? Not once. - Why didn't you let me know you're ok?_ "Tell me." Your brows furrow, confused, because you hadn't actually asked any of the questions.  "I mean..."  
   
"I know what you mean, Doll. And I wish, I could. I will... a few things... Once it's declassified. But for now... All I can say is that... for the first time, going away on short notice, I... I was scared." Bucky holds a breath and your eyes widen in surprise. Bucky chuckles and runs an index down your cheek. "I was scared because..." He pauses with a dreamy gaze, his index now detailing your lips over and over.  
   
You see his own lips part like he's ready to say something else. In fact, you are one hundred percent sure what he wants to say because you want to say it, too. Because _BRAIN!... Ugh brain, not yet. NOT YET!_ Your hand shoots to his mouth and you smile. "I care about you, too, James." You whisper, your eyes nearly stern with that hidden message to give it just a little bit more time because this life, him being here in your life now, no matter how familiar it feels, needs a little more time.  
   
Bucky nods in understanding, pulling you close by the waist, and when you take your hand away he gives you one of those kisses that set your mind ablaze. And one more. And another. And two more, one on each cheek. And one traveling to your jaw... Then your neck... Open-mouthed... To behind your lobe...Then the smoke alarm goes off, and you stand eyes wide while Bucky dashes to the kitchen.  
   
"Shit..... awe.... dammit... Sorry, Doll. Looks like the French Toast is extra crispy." Bucky holds up one of the slices and you start laughing.  
"Uhm... I have cereal." You snicker, pulling a box of cereal from one of the cabinets and Bucky frowns.  
"Not very romantic."  
"Yes, it is. If we eat breakfast in bed. Just like you'd clearly planned." You counter with a wink.  
Bucky shakes his head with a smirk. "Never met anyone like you."  
"I know. You've said that before." You pull a couple of bowls from another cabinet.  
"And it's true." Bucky smiles. He gestures for you to fill the bowls with cereal while he puts the milk carton on the tray, him ready to carry everything to the bedroom.  
   
You do as he asks, and shortly after you find yourself back in bed, eating breakfast while laughing over all the things that have happened while he was gone.  
"So, you're Poe's and Finn's maid of honor? Nice. What exactly does a maid of honor do?" Bucky finishes his cereal, placing the bowl on the tray.  
"You know. I'm actually not sure. No one's ever asked me before. I should probably research it, but I'm guessing it's like making sure things are booked on time and such."  
"Did they pick a venue?"  
   
"Hmmmmm ... yes." You mumble through a sip of coffee and Bucky waits. "The abandoned airstrip right outside of town. There's a hangar that people can rent out. It's actually really nice."  
"Nice. Suits them." Bucky sips on his coffee, ocean blues studying you over the rim of his cup before he puts it down. "Where would you wanna get married?" He asks out of the blue and you nearly choke on the last bite of your cereal.  
   
_Fuck. Did he really just ask that?_ "Uhm, the theater." You hide behind your own cup of coffee now. For one, because you're surprised how easy that answer came to you. For two, because it's not the most obvious of places. And three, because you try to hide an abashed smile because Bucky gives you a smile of his own at the answer and another dreamy gaze.  
   
Unspoken words. Heat creeping to cheeks. That dusty road with the orange sunset.  
"So... what's with the boxes?" Bucky is first to break the silence and it takes a moment to collect your thoughts.  
"Uhhhh... what?"  
"The boxes?" Bucky points to the nightstand behind you and you start laughing.  
"Oh.... those...ahahahahahahaha... ok... so... uhm, you remember Rey, right?"  
"Yes."  
"Well... she... she was kinda too happy that I'm dating again and well... she went out and bought a bunch of different sized condoms...She kind of guessed... uhm... and  I cannot believe I didn't put them away. I'm just..." You lose yourself in more laughter, little tears streaming down the corners of your eyes as you try to hide behind your palms. "I'm sorry. You'll just have to get used to Rey intervening like that because that's just her." You finally calm down, collecting napkins and standing up to head to the kitchen, and Bucky follows suit, capturing you in an embrace from behind.  
   
"Well, I'm glad she did." He kisses behind your lobe and you nearly drop the tray. "Very, very glad." He keeps holding on, placing more kisses and you gasp.  
"Bucky."  
"Mmmmm hmmm..."  
"Trraa...huhhhh fuck."  
"Let me..." Bucky takes the tray from your hands and puts it on the dresser opposite the bed and you stand frozen.  
   
Bucky steps closer to you, and again, he details your face. But unlike last time, he's using his titanium hand. "It's not the same." He mumbles with knitted brows before switching to his other hand, a content smile on his face when he does so. He traces over every detail and you still stand frozen, with fast heart and rapid breath.  
   
"Bucky." You whisper.  
"I know, Doll. I know." He leans a kiss onto your lips, right before he lifts you to himself, yet again carrying you to your bed.  
   
What little clothes you're wearing comes off fast. Everything else is slow. From his endearing kisses over your skin to his gentle massages up and down your body. It's like he needs to make sure he gets to know every inch of your body. Every tiny detail. Every perfect curve. Every minuscule freckle. He wants to know it all. He wants to know **YOU** all.  
   
And this time, when he finds his way between your legs, you already soaking wet, he gives what you'd expected last night. Timid exploration. Tiny licks. Careful fingers. All while watching you over your apex and you watching him getting you there with endearing softness. It's not until you add your own hand that he picks up the pace, you dropping your head back into a pillow.  
   
Faster pace, Bucky stops using his tongue and crawls up next to you, his fingers inside you, your own around your clit, all while he watches your face, your brows contorting between bliss and agony as you get closer. "Bucky." You look to him and he smiles. "Just a little faster." You beg and he obeys, those fingers of his stroking over your insides just a little faster. "Bucky..." Your hips start arching up and he moves faster yet, leaning in to bite into the curve of your neck. "Oh god... James!" You yell and he smirks.  
   
You relax, breath slowing, and he keeps kissing into the curve of your neck. Until he moves on top of you, his lips never leaving your skin as he trails kisses from one side to the other.  
It's him who gets a condom this time, and you who smirks out a "wow, prepared much", at which he laughs.  
   
He's fast to unroll the thin sheath, kneeling in front of you, but slow when he leans back down to kiss you over and over while keeping his weight on arms and legs. "Bucky." You whisper, your hands sliding down his back to the dip above his ass, your legs wrapping around him, and he nods, his hand going to his cock so he can line up; this time kissing you when he finally pushes his way in, capturing your gasp with a moan.  
   
He's slow. On top of you. Most of his weight still on his arms as he watches you gasp with each push. He's slow, because like the kissed exploration earlier, he wants to make sure he doesn't miss a single thing now that your bodies are one. Not a single of your gasps, smiles, or shocked O-faces when he dares to thrust just a little harder. And he definitely dares, the bed actually moving a bit beneath you every time he returns.  
   
"Oh god... fuck... James!" You swallow another shocked breath and he finally drops his weight on you, pushing you into the mattress with each move, his hands pressing against the headboard to prevent it from making noise, your own arms around his back. "James!" You cry out again because somehow he's angled even deeper and you're close to losing that last bit of tethered rope.   
"I know, Doll. Right behind you. Let go." His voice vibrates on your skin and you can't hold back any longer. The rope snaps with sharp nails down Bucky's back, at which he growls into your neck because that right there, sets him off.  
   
"Wow." Bucky breathes heavily and you laugh under his weight.  
"Yeah... wow." You kiss his neck and he moans.  
"I love how soft your lips are, you know that, Doll?" You hear him rasp and you laugh again.  
"Ah yeah? I love how soft yours are."  
He pushes his weight to his elbows, ocean blues smiling back at you. "Yeah. What else do you love?" He asks and you gulp.  
"Many things." You whisper after a while and Bucky nods with a warm smile.  
   
"Be right back." His hand goes between your bodies, and like the night before, you softly whimper at him leaving you. Unlike the night before, when he returns, you're wide awake. Exhausted, but wide awake. You don't want to miss another moment. Not while he's here.  
   
You smile when he crawls back into bed next to you completely naked, and he bites his lower lip at seeing your naked frame under the covers. "Sexy."  
"Not so bad yourself." You giggle.  
Bucky rolls to his back and waits for you to curl up into his side, so you do, tracing lines over his chest as you daydream about dusty roads and orange sunsets.  
"Did you and Laura hang out?" Bucky asks after some silence.  
You nod with a sigh. "We did. She showed me the rest of their estate."  
Bucky laughs at the word. "It's an estate alright, huh? It's a nice house they have. I like how they combined old and new. Pretty."  
   
Bucky goes silent again. He skims over your arm with his hand, absentmindedly, and you tilt your head up to watch him. Like you, he seems far away. Daydreaming. But unlike you, his face looks worried. "Bucky?" You draw his attention towards yourself.  
"Yes, Doll."  
"What do you want?"  
Bucky's brows pull tight. "What do you mean?"  
"I mean... In a year from now, where do you wanna be? In five? Or what's... what's your ultimate goal?"  
   
Bucky chuckles. He plays with your hair, his face becoming serious for a moment, then he smiles again. "In a year... I'd like to be a full-time member of the Avengers. In five... be with someone who won't mind this work." He gives you an intense gaze. "And if I ever retire..."  
"If?" Your eyes detail his face. He seems a little amused at first, then worried, again. But that's second to what else you see. The small cuts you'd seen last night and this morning? Gone. Completely healed. And the ones on his chest? Centimeters at best. The bruises? Pale yellow.  
   
For the first time since you've met him you feel a knot in your stomach. And not the good kind. A new question edges it's way to the forefront. One that's important. More so than all the other questions you've wanted to ask. But before you get the chance, a familiar voice echoes cheerily through the apartment.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously had no idea where this chapter was going. I just basically wrote and wrote and I have zero outline for this story so sometimes we're stuck in the same day over several chapters and sometimes we'll be flying through the timeline. So... yah. And also... *bites nails* Can't wait for the reactions on this chapter SO: Feedback welcome, but please be gentle.

"Hey, girl. Just returning the movies I borrowed." Rey's voice is just around the corner of the bedroom, closing in.  
You jump up, dragging the blanket with you in a desperate attempt to cover up...  
"Oh, and by the way, some asshole decided to park in my spot.... ohhhh heyyyyyyyyaaaaa..." Rey stops dead in her tracks, just a foot short of the doorframe. "Weeeell..." She draws out the word, widest grin on face, looking behind you. "That explains the bike. Hi, James. How's it going?"  
   
You peer back over your shoulder, eyes wide because you've clearly forgotten about the other naked person in your bed, or else you wouldn't have left him that exposed. Lucky for you, Bucky is a quick-on-his-feet type a guy. He's grabbed a pillow to hide away the more delicate sections of his body, sitting upright, confident smile on face. "Hey, Rey." His voice carries amusement and your eyes go wider. "Doing fine. How about you?"   _Is he seriously willing to hold a conversation with your BFF? While NAKED?_  
"Mmmmmmm hmmmm." Rey first gives you a once-over, then him, that grin of hers growing even wider. "I bet you are. I bet you both are." _Geez. Whatever happened to subtlety?_  
   
"Movies." You finally find your voice. And the fact that your body can move. With one hand you clutch to your blanket, and with the other, you push Rey into the living room. _At least it wasn't in the middle of._ You think, eyes wide, and Rey catches your expression.  
   
"You really need to learn to chain your door when you have visitors." She laughs.  
"I'll remember next time." You stand, head tilted, waiting to see if your BFF gets the hint that you want her to leave. Like... right now! But Rey overlooks the hint. For obvious reasons.  
She leans in, eyes narrowing, whispering "details", and you hitch a breath.  
"Are you serious!" It takes every ounce to keep your voice low.  
"Yeah! Come on girl. Spill it."  
You shake your head, pointing a finger to the door, and Rey laughs, again.  
"At least tell me if it was good or not."  
"Oh my god! You _*you point to Rey*_ need to leave _*you point to the door*_."  
"Alright, alright. But tomorrow..." Rey's voice gains volume and you give her a don't-you-dare stare. "I want all the details." She nearly yells and you press a palm to your forehead. "See you later, James."  
"Later, Rey!" Bucky responds just as loudly, the laugh following that not going past you.  
You follow Rey to the door and she leaves, but not before adding another "details" to yet another one of her signature laughs. You lock the door, chain secured this time, and pace back.  
   
"You two..." You shake your head when you return to the bedroom, but even you can't help a small smile at the fact that you've been caught like that. Not during. But butt naked.  
"Could've been worse." Bucky still sits with a pillow covering his front, smirking, and you shake your head again, tossing the blanket his way. "Hey... you had better come back here." He throws the blanket off and you make a run for it.  
"No! I don't reward smart-assery." You dash for the bathroom but before you can reach it Bucky captures you in his arms.  
"I wasn't being a smart-ass." He argues, flexing his arms.  
"Yes, you were." You squiggle in his hold but his arms are tight. No escape. And hardly any way to draw in a breath.  
   
You stop in defeat, slouching, and Bucky chuckles. "No, I wasn't." He whispers under a kiss behind your lobe and you shiver.  
"Bucky."  
"Mmmmhmmm..." His lips stay on you but his hold loosens and you turn in his arms, your hands going to his neck and into his hair, noting the remainder of his mission: dust, oil, gunpowder.  
"We should take a shower." You whisper.  
"Yes... we should." He whispers, too, eyes casting down over your body. You know that look! Shampooing his hair is the last thing on his mind.  
   
"I should... get a condom first." Your body tingles at the thought of more of him but he shakes his head.  
"Not this time." Bucky starts nudging you into the bathroom, his lips detailing your neck, titanium hand on your hip, and the other already gently stroking between your legs.  
   
You sigh out his name, a hint of protest in there, and he stops for a moment, taking a step back, both hands on your hips now. "Let me take care of you, Doll." His voice is low, laced with lust **and** care, and you swear, you're close to that rope-snapping moment just for that.  
   
He leans down to start the water in the tub, then pulls the lever to activate the showerhead, and you stand silently for a moment, heat pooling to your stomach, heart rate rising. You stand silent, because god, yes, you need him to take care of you. Because, god fuck, no one's ever taken care of you the way he does.  
Bucky steps into the tub, helping you step in after before he draws the shower curtain. The warm water hitting your skin makes you sigh and regain some focus. A moment of clarity during which you whisper a "but", heat still pooling, heart rate still rising.  
   
Bucky pulls you close to his body, kissing over your brows. "Don't worry about me, Doll. Let me take care of you." He kisses over your jaw, your vision going blurry when you feel his fingers slowly edging into your folds. "Let me make you moan."  
 _Oh dear, fucking..._ "Ohhhh-kay." You gasp, one of your legs wrapping around Bucky to grant him better access and he takes full advantage, two fingers slipping in to the third knuckle. Two fingers in search of that spot, rotating and spreading and rubbing. "Oh god." You moan at the feeling of everything. His lips on your neck. His fingers inside of you. Water hitting your skin. You moan and he takes care of you. Twice. No. Three times. Just lips on neck and fingers against sensitive nerves. Just enough for you to get completely lost, each time moaning louder for him. Just enough to have your legs start trembling with the last climax.  
   
"Bucky." You gasp as you barely hang on to him, your arms just as weak from holding tight to his neck the entire time.  
He stops and withdraws his fingers, his arms closing around you to keep you steady. "You ok, Doll?" There's a hint of amusement the way he asks and you pinch into his skin.  
   
Bucky rubs up and down your back and you rest your cheek against his chest, water still running over your bodies, you both exhausted. You idly trace over the scars where metal meets skin, then your attention goes to his chest. All the cuts you'd seen earlier? Gone. Every single one. And the bruises? You can't even tell that he's had any.  
   
Suddenly, the question is back. And this time, there's nothing to hold it back. No interruptions. No second guessing. Maybe it's your inner scientist screaming for answers. Maybe it's that dusty road and the orange sunset. All you know for sure is that you need to know. You need to know because you already see that one-year marker. And the five. And... the ultimate goal. "Do you age?" You whisper, your head tilting up, worried eyes meeting knowing ones because Bucky had had a feeling that that's what you've wanted to ask before Rey had walked in.  
   
He takes a couple of deep breaths, his hands stopping at your lower back where he holds firmly because he's scared how the answer will affect you. And not just you as a person, but you, both, as a couple. "I do." His head nods ever so lightly and you wait. "But... I age slower than normal humans."  
 _Slower?_ "How? I mean... I know you were in cryostasis. But it doesn't explain..." You pause, glancing at his chest, then back up at him. "You're ... You're like him, aren't you? Like Steve. I mean, Captain America. You've got that stuff in you. The serum."  
   
Bucky's arms slip from you, face unreadable, and you cuss at yourself because everything you'd just asked, everything you'd just said, sounded like some form of judgment. Maybe even like an accusation in some way. Like he's kept this from you on purpose somehow, when really, and technically, all information regarding the experiments, the serum, and what not, is still semi-classified. The only reason you know some of the info is because you'd gotten hold of part of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s leaked files. And interesting reads they'd been.  
   
You watch Bucky take a step back like he's bracing himself for something. Or maybe he needs space to explain. Or maybe he's giving you room to let this settle in. You're not sure because his face is still unreadable. Blank. Even with his eyes studying you, he is blank.  
   
"I'm sorry." You whisper. "I... I..." You look to his arm, remembering the first night he'd spent at your place. How he seemed worried. _Jackass_. You internalize the self-degradation. "I didn't mean to judge you. And I wasn't. And... And I'm not scared." You exhale heavily, stepping closer to him, focus on his chest. "I just... I need to know what that means. For us. I'll age but... you. You'll still look..." You run a slow hand down Bucky's chest, coming to a stop right over his abs, and he curls his hand around yours.  
   
You look up, blank expression traded for sincerity.  
"I don't care. You'll age. I'll just age slower."  
You huff out a breath. "I'll be an old, wrinkly lady with gray hair and sagging boobs." You crack and Bucky chuckles.  
"You'll be my old, wrinkly lady with gray hair and sagging boobs." He jokes with a wide smile and you chuckle this time, focus back on his chest, your smile failing at the speed of light because now the what-ifs flood your mind. And there are many what ifs. What if you develop a mind-altering illness that makes you forget? What if he grows tired of taking care of you when you're old? How would that even work? You'll be old and he'll be young? And when you die? And he's left with just your memories? You'd never want to break his heart. But that right there... what if you break his heart when all that's left are your memories?  
   
"[Y/N]," Bucky whispers, his hand slipping under your chin to make you look back up. "I don't care. You'll age. Yes. I'll age a little slower. But I don't care. Because my ultimate goal... When I retire... My ultimate goal is to be with you. Aged or not. You and me. A little two bedroom house. Big yard. Lots of dogs... You and me because..." Bucky stops. Not on his own. But because you've cut him off with a kiss. A kiss with your arms around his neck and your body pressed into his because...  
"... I love you, too, James."  
 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an in between chapter. I'll drive the story forward once my last chemo round is over and I'll have a clear mind. Til then, enjoy.

You sit by your desk in the classroom, stacks of folders left and right of your laptop. Folders that are ignored by you as you absentmindedly stir a spoon in a cup of coffee that has long gone cold.  
Not that you’d notice, the way you sit there all dreamy eyed and smiling, your head propped up on your free hand while your mind is stuck on repeat with everything from the day before.  
  
And who can blame you, really?   
It had been the kind of Sunday most people tend to dream about. Lazy. Hidden from the real world. Nothing but tender touch and sweet whispers between laughed conversations and declarations of love.   
  
Your mind is definitely stuck there because for either of you, yesterday had felt like something long overdue; Bucky nearly the more desperate one to feel and be felt between said conversations and declarations.  
  
You chuckle, your thoughts going right to when you’d stepped out of the shower. Both of you’d gotten dressed in minimal clothing, and just long enough to replenish your bodies with much-needed energy - _namely a mix of fruits and yogurt and glasses of orange juice_ \- only to end up on the sofa with lips locked and hands roaming over each other’s bodies.  
  
It was there that Bucky decided that you didn’t need clothes after all. That he wanted to hold you skin on skin while he had you straddle him, his hands exploring your body with great care. **BOTH** of his hands; soft warmth always followed by cool titanium down your spine or arms or across your thighs while your own hands would keep busy threading through his hair or scratching down his back. Something he often repaid with soft groans and whispered “do it agains”.   
  
And it was there that Bucky decided that you needed to go at least two more rounds.   
The first, slow and tender with you both sitting up. Slow ecstasy with heated breath and intense gazes without words. Just quiet moans and deliberate kisses. Silent exploration to feel EVERYTHING.   
  
Round two had been the opposite of that.   
  
You snicker, heat creeping to your cheeks as you think of it all.  
  
It hadn’t been planned to be that. Not that you’d planned any of it anyways. But Bucky - _barely recovered from slow and tender_ \- had whispered “I need more”, and your response - _for whatever reason_ \- had been “then take what you need”, and somehow he had looked at it as a challenge. Because the things he needed hadn’t been just feeling you. He loved feeling you. That was clear. But what he’d needed was to hear you.    
  
So, upon your words, he took what he needed. And the way he took it was by bending you over the armrest of the sofa; legs together, your head pressed into the sofa cushions and held down by the hand he still calls his own, and your arms trapped below cool titanium at the small of your back while he, careful at first, thrusted into you so deeply, you couldn’t help but yell his name every which way you knew how.  
  
_“Bucky”  
“James”  
“Oh god, fuck yes, Sergeant Barnes! Harder!”_  
  
Somehow you calling him by his old rank and last name had flipped a switch, because next thing you knew, he’d let go of your arms and dropped his head to between your shoulder blades, groans falling from his lips as he dared to take you even rougher with each thrust.  
  
“James!” You’d whimpered, biting into the cushion, and he would capture your hands by the sides of your head.   
“Cum for me, Doll. Come on. I want to hear you.” He’d rasped out, pushing you so hard over the armrest that you ended up screaming his full name into the pillow.  
“Oh god. Bucky....” You’d trailed off as your body shook through the chase for his own release, and when he finally got there, too, he collapsed onto you, your name caught in a moan onto your shoulder.  
  
You snicker again.  
  
Round two had left you exhausted. So much so that by the time Bucky had returned from cleaning off, you’d fallen asleep. All you remember after that is him collecting you into his arms and carrying you to bed, and him kissing you back to sleep, you mumbling somehow that you couldn’t possibly go another round right before seeing that orange sunset in the distance.  
  
_“I’ll see you tonight?”_  
 _“Yes. But tonight it’s Netflix and_ snuggle _. And that’s all we’ll do.”_  
 _“I thought it was Netflix and chill.”_  
 _“Why do I get the feeling you know exactly what Netflix and chill means.”_  
 _“Alright, Doll. Netflix and snuggle. And Pizza?”_  
 _“You buyin’?”_  
 _“Anything for you, Doll.”_  
 _“Careful, James. I might ask for promises you can’t keep.”_  
 _“Like?”_  
 _“Like...”_  
  
You didn’t have the guts to tell him then that you want him to always come home at night. Back to you. Not yet, at least, because you know, that’s not how his job works. But he knew what you'd meant. You know he knew because when he’d said goodbye this morning, he didn’t say “see you later” or “I’ll be back”. He’d said “I love you, too, Doll” because somehow that seemed nicer than a promise he might not be able to keep. Somehow, he knew it would keep your mind at ease. Especially after the last two weeks.  
  
You smile. How hard you’ve fallen for him to want him back home with you like that. How selfish of you. And at the same time, you can’t help it because you see that one-year marker, and the five, and the ultimate goal...  
  
“I know that kind of smile.” A voice draws your attention away from bliss and you can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Your mouth twists in that caught abashed sort of way and you shake your head. “Yup. I know that kind of smile. It’s love. And it’s hit you hard.”  
  
You shake your head again, trying to find the right words to respond. “It’s not fair. You’ve got a Ph.D. in psychology. So obviously you know how to read people.”  
“I don’t need a Ph.D. to know that that smile is love.”   
You laugh wholeheartedly and nod, then look around the classroom. The clock on the wall catches your eye and you cringe. It’s nearly 07:30 hrs. Another ten minutes and the classrooms will fill with students. You look over your class schedule, taking note which of the many groups is your first. “I take it you’re here for Cooper?”  
  
“I am. Where do you want me to sit?”  
“Wherever you think will be the most helpful in your observation, Leia. I’ll be going over the main subjects for finals today. Then work in small groups going over any questions the children might have.”  
Leia nods as she listens to you while you further explain your routines. “I’d like to go from table to table and also talk to the children if that’s ok with you. That way I don’t single out Cooper.”  
  
“Whatever works best. I’m going to go by your lead.” You smile and Leia nods, again. Then she gives you a mischievous curl of the lip, and you brace yourself.  
“So. Who’s the fella?” Leia asks with confidence.  
“It’s ten minutes to class.” You point out, but Leia plants herself on the chair opposite your desk.  
“Plenty of time.” She blinks and you laugh, dropping your head on your folded arms on top of the desk.   
It takes a moment to calm down. Another before you look back up. “Well. What can I say? He’s... He’s something else.” You start and Leia listens.


End file.
